


Olicity in a Hurry

by writergirl75



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Flash Fic, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-09 14:46:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 41,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1986906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writergirl75/pseuds/writergirl75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Collection of Olicity one shots in response to Smoak and Arrow's Flash Fic Challenges.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. High-Heeled Footsteps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only one woman Oliver want's to talk to - unfortunately their are two women in his new lair.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#1 - Into the Wild. This story surprised me by going in a direction I didn't foresee, and with only an hour to write I just went with it. It was supposed to be about the wild world of job hunting and instead it ended up being about something very different. Anyway, thanks for reading.

**High-Heeled Footsteps ******

********

"Unfortunately, Oliver, my supervisor just doesn't think you're the right fit for us," David Edwards said, his voice sounding sincere.

"Right, yeah. I understand," Oliver replied, trying to keep the disappointment from creeping into his voice.

"But don't give up hope," Edwards said. "Honestly, I wasn't expecting much from you, but I was fairly impressed with your interview, so keep at it."

Oliver wasn't sure if the backhanded compliment made him feel better or worse. "Okay, thanks."

"Give Walter my best, will you?" Edwards said.

"Sure thing. Thanks," Oliver said hitting the disconnect button with a sigh. Edwards parting shot reminded him that the only reason he'd even been able to get an interview with Brown Technical was that Walter had gone to bat for him.

He sank down into the chair in front of him, it was an uncomfortable and rather battered folding chair, yet another reminder in his change in circumstances. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and let out a small sigh of relief when he heard footsteps behind him – the undeniable sound of high heels on a concrete floor.

He looked up, so grateful she was here. He opened his mouth to greet her has he turned and then froze. "Laurel."

She looked uncertain, and he knew the look on his face probably wasn't helping with that. "Hey," she said quietly.

"I…uh…didn't know you knew…" he trailed off.

"Where you're new secret hideout was?" she finished, giving him a smile that had a bit of an edge. "Is that a problem?"

"No," he said quickly, too quickly, and her smile grew even more strained.

"Bad day?" she asked, nodding toward the phone.

He tilted his head and stood up, walking away from her. "I don't really want to talk about it. Just didn't get a job I'd hoped for."

She nodded. "Well, it's tough out there, law of the jungle and all that - especially in this job market." Then she stopped and gave him a little eye roll, "Not that you'd have much previous experience with that."

It was obviously meant as a joke, an old standby of hers to needle him about his wealth. It had never been his favorite thing about her, and right at this moment it stung.

Silence fell between them – the awkwardness of it grating on his frayed nerves. Still, she hadn't really done anything to deserve to be the focus of his bad mood so he tried to give her a friendly smile. "Is there something you wanted?"

She shrugged. "We just really hadn't talked since…everything, and I wondered if you wanted to."

He didn't want to talk to her. Why didn't he? He'd always blamed this strangeness he felt with her on the fact that he was forced to lie to her, but now that she'd found out he was the Arrow he knew that wasn't true. "I guess…"

The words were cut off by the sound of another set of heels, rapid fire, and the sight of Felicity hurrying into the room. "Oh good, you're here," she said, breezing past him in a blur of pink skirt and purple fingernails. He smiled as she moved directly to her new computer - the one she'd paid for herself - and began typing without even sitting down.

"I've got an idea about tracking down that car theft ring," she said quickly. "I thought if I cross referenced the DMV database and…" she noticed suddenly that Oliver wasn't the only one in the room. She smiled politely and said, "Hey Laurel." Then without waiting for a reply she continued, "Anyway, the DMV database with the list of cars they've previously stolen, we might be able to…"

Laurel's eyes narrowed. "Hacking into the DMV is a federal offense, you know."

Felicity froze, looking startled. "Well…technically yes."

Laurel folded her arms across her chest. "And I'm an assistant DA."

Felicity shot Oliver a panicked look and he cleared his throat. "And I'm wanted for murder, obstruction of justice, and about twenty-seven other things," he said pointedly.

Laurel blinked and turned to Oliver. "Right, sorry. Reflex."

He grunted in reply, and took a deep breath. The room went oddly quiet and Oliver looked to where Felicity was twisting her fingers uncomfortably, obviously unsure about what to do next. Giving her a reassuring nod he said, "Go for it."

"Right," she said, giving him a grateful smile in return, and turning back to her monitors.

When he looked at Laurel again there was a look in her eyes that he recognized from back when they were dating, a combination of suspicion, judgment, and sadness. The only difference was that back then he'd deserved it. "Everything okay?" he asked.

She nodded quickly. "I guess I just thought…" she shook her head. "Never mind, I'll let the two of you get back to work."

"Great," Oliver said, walking to where Felicity was now seated typing furiously on the keyboard. He put his hand on the back of her chair and turned to Laurel. "Thanks for stopping by."

For a moment she looked really sad, but it disappeared so quickly he wondered if he'd missed it.

"Yeah, sure. See you later," she said turning to walk out of the room.

As the sound of her footsteps receded, Felicity stopped typing and very quietly said. "Did I interrupt something?"

He frowned, and then shook his head. "No, of course not. She just dropped by to say hello."

"That was nice…I guess," Felicity said.

"Yeah," he said with a shrug. Taking a deep breath he said. "Do you have a minute?"

"Of course," she turned from the monitors. "What's up?"

He folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the dented desk. "Edwards called."

Felicity's hand came out to rest on his forearm. "I take from your tone of voice that you're not the newest employee of Brown Technology?" She said, looking up at him with obvious sympathy.

He shook his head. "Though he said I did better in the interview than he'd expected."

Felicity let out an annoyed huff and shook her head. "Their loss."

It was good to hear, even if he didn't quite believe it. "I'm not exactly the most qualified candidate in the world," he said. "I did sign my last company away to the minion of a homicidal maniac."

"Oh, that," Felicity said with a grin. "No big deal."

He couldn't help but smile a little at that. "Not sure everyone else sees it that way."

The small soft hand on his arm squeezed gently and for the first time he truly felt the tension of the phone call ease from him. Her eyes when she met his were steady and reassuring. "Don't worry if you can survive the wilds of Lian Yu, I'm sure you can survive anything, even job hunting."

For a moment he didn't even know how to respond. Finally he settled for two easy words. "Thank you."

"Anytime," she told him, moving her hand back to the keyboard. "Would it help if I found you some car thieves to beat up on?"

He nodded and stood up, moving toward where his green suit rested in a packing crate. It was time to get back to work.


	2. Interrupted Innings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Diggle just wants to watch the Rockets game in peace - unfortunately his two friends keep calling, even when what they really should be doing is talking to each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For prompt #2 "Game On."

John Diggle's phone rang. He looked at the screen and saw Oliver's name. Muting the Rockets game he sighed and picked it up. Without even saying hello he said, "Oliver, she's fine."

There was silence on the other end of the line for a moment and then Oliver growled. "That's not why I'm calling."

"Sure, man," Digg said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

"I was just wondering if you'd be up for some training. I've finally got the mats installed," Oliver explained.

Digg's eyes strayed to the television screen where the Rocket's best hitter was stepping up to the plate. Between that and the fact that Lyla was bound to be home from a three-day trip in the next couple of hours, the last thing he felt like doing was hanging out in a concrete bunker with his impatient and agitated former boss. "That's great, but I've got the game on, so how about tomorrow?"

"Right, fine," Oliver said. Then there was silence again.

"What?" Digg said, knowing there was more.

"He worked for Merlyn Global, Digg," Oliver said, obvious nerves in his voice.

Digg leaned his head back on the couch and counted to five before answering. "You've already pointed that out about sixteen times Oliver. What can I say? The guy and his company check out, and this contract would pay her a bucket load of money."

"I don't like it," Oliver said.

Digg rubbed his eyes. "No kidding. But neither of us has any right to tell her what to do with her life."

Oliver went on as if Digg hadn't spoken. "And interviewing her at a restaurant on a Saturday?" He heard the sound of Oliver punching something.

As annoying as his friend's behavior was Digg let out a chuckle. "Maybe he thinks if she turns down the job he can count it as a date."

Another, louder, crash came from the other end of the phone. "Not funny, Diggle," Oliver said.

"Why?" Digg asked. "Would you have a problem with that?" If he was going to miss part of his game he was at least going to get some joy out of handing some well-deserved crap to Oliver.

"Maybe," Oliver said quietly.

Digg sat up, surprised. "Then I think you're talking to the wrong person."

There was silence on the other end of the line again, and for the first time the conversation held all of John Diggle's attention. "Oliver?"

"I'm not sure I'm ready to talk about this yet, to you…to or her," he said finally.

Without thinking Digg threw up his free hand in frustration, sending the remote control skittering across his living room rug. "Then I'm not really sure I can help you out much."

"Fine," Oliver snapped. "Go back to your damn game." Without another word the call disconnected.

Diggle turned the sound back on and stood up to retrieve the remote control. An inning later his phone rang again. "These two are going to kill me," he muttered, seeing Felicity's face on the phone screen.

"Hey, Felicity," he said.

"Oliver was right, the guy was kind of a creep," she said without preamble.

All annoyance dropped away, to be replaced with real worry. "You okay?"

"Yeah, just irritated," she said. "I dry cleaned my job interview skirt for nothing."

Feeling relieved he let his focus wander back to where the Yankees had just got the second out. "He didn't offer you the job?"

"Oh, no," Felicity said. "He offered me the job, but he also talked about how much my TechConnect profile picture brought out my eyes, and how closely we'd have to work together to complete the project on time."

"And you weren't interested," Digg clarified.

"Of course I wasn't interested," she said, as if he'd suggested the craziest thing in the world.

"That creepy, huh?" Digg asked.

"Well…no," she said, sounding a bit confused. "He just wasn't my type."

"Not a masked vigilante, huh?" Digg said, unable to resist.

There was dead silence, which for Felicity was a really rare occasion. Then he heard her gasp, "You have got to be kidding me."

"What now?" Diggle asked.

There was a muffled sound of her juggling the phone a bit. "He can't give me one afternoon off?" he heard her mutter.

"Oliver's there," Digg said, not bothering to ask.

"Did you know he was coming?" she said, her anger now directed at Diggle.

He wondered if he should start charging them for relationship counseling. Of course to do that they'd have to admit they were in a relationship. "I had a feeling. Talk to him before you kill him, all right?"

"Fine," she said. "Goodbye, Digg."

John Diggle hung up the phone and wondered just how long it would be before one of them interrupted again, but as the next two innings came and went with no phone call, he hoped that maybe, finally, they'd figured it out.


	3. Stronger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Felicity gets hurt training Oliver learns that Slade's words might have done a little more damage to his Girl Wednesday than he expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#3 "Too Far, Too Fast." Oh, and full disclosure - this was like an hour and fifteen minutes.

Oliver walked into their new lair and stopped dead. Felicity sat on a chair, in a workout tank top and pants, with Roy holding a cloth to her obviously bleeding forehead.

"What the hell happened?" he asked walking toward them, glaring at the younger man.

"If you're going to be mad at someone, be mad at me," Felicity said, sounding tired. "This is my fault."

Oliver folded his arms across his chest and raised his eyebrows. "You hit yourself in the head?"

"Well, no," Felicity admitted, wincing as Roy pressed down again. "Technically Digg hit me, but I'm the one who insisted we train with the sticks."

Oliver felt a flash of anger, but he knew accidents happened when you trained. Looking around, he asked, "Where is Digg?"

"Oh, he left," Roy said, sounding as irritated as Oliver felt. Reaching for a bandage, he gestured at Felicity, "When blondie here insisted that she wanted to start training again once I patched her up, he told her she was being crazy and took off."

Felicity glared at Roy as he set the large square of gauze and adhesive in place on her forehead. "He didn't say I was being crazy."

Roy rolled his eyes. "Oh sorry, I believe the words were 'stubborn and ridiculous.' Is that better?"

Felicity let out an exasperated sigh, and Oliver looked closely at her. She wasn't wearing makeup, there were dark circles under her eyes, and she looked far more worn out than even the cut on her head could explain. He'd noticed she seemed to be pushing herself a little hard in the last few weeks, but then so had he. There were a lot of bad memories, and a lot of rebuilding to do, and sometimes working hard was the only thing that helped. Still, he wondered if in her case it was something more than that.

He looked at Roy. "Could you give us a minute?"

"Sure thing," Roy said.

Oliver waited until Roy had left the room then he pulled a chair around so he could sit down facing her. "What's going on with you?' he asked gently.

She put a hand to her head, and didn't meet his eyes. "It's no big deal. John told me I wasn't ready for it, and he was right. I'm still useless at this."

"Hey," Oliver said, frowning. "That's not true. You just pushed yourself too far, too fast. Besides, it's not really your area of expertise."

"Yeah," she said. She got to her feet, let out a little hiss of a breath, and put a hand to her head again. "Don't I know it." She walked a few feet away and rolled her shoulders, obviously in pain.

Feeling confused, Oliver moved forward and put his hands on those shoulders, warm and bare under his grasp. "Why is this so important to you all of the sudden?" he asked.

She shrugged, but didn't turn, and he heard a sniff that sounded suspiciously like crying. Stepping around her he saw tears on her face. "Felicity?"

There was mutinous look in her eyes when she finally looked at him. "Because I need to be stronger."

He couldn't help it, he put a hand on her cheek. "You're one of the strongest people I know. I don't understand…"

She pulled away from him, and that, more than anything else, set off a warning bell in Oliver's brain. Wiping her eyes she whispered, "Slade told you…" then she swallowed hard. "Never mind, it doesn't matter."

Slade. The name was like cold water being thrown over him. As difficult as it had been too see Felicity as the man's hostage, Oliver had been proud of the way she'd handled it. Not once since they'd talked on the beach had she even brought up what had happened. His mind searched for what she was talking about, what it was that Slade might have said that caused this. Then it hit him –

"I was surprised. I thought you had a thing for stronger women."

Slade's words echoed through Oliver's head and it felt like being punched in the stomach. Reaching out he put his hands firmly on her upper arms. "Felicity, look at me," he ordered.

She raised her face to his, and he tilted his head toward her a fraction. "You were so brave," his voice was rougher than he expected and he swallowed hard. "And whatever Slade said, you are the one who took him down when no one else could."

She blinked, and he saw a bit of her old spark returning. "I did, didn't I?'

He reached up and pushed back a piece of damp blonde hair, letting his hand linger just a moment against the side of her face. "Yes. And you also need to remember that I…" he stopped just in time. "That we need you, whether or not you ever spend another minute training. Okay?"

"Okay." she said, and she finally smiled.


	4. You Don't Count

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#4, "Alone With You." I couldn't really get this to go anywhere within the time limit, but any scene with Oliver and Felicity alone in the lair can't be all bad right?

"So I was thinking of heading home," Digg said quietly. "You okay here for a bit?"

Felicity looked to where Oliver was still doing pushups, and then back to Digg's serious expression. She nodded. "Yeah, I'm good."

It wasn't that they had ever talked about it, but in the last few days since they'd returned from depositing Slade on Lian Yu, Felicity and Digg did their best to make sure Oliver wasn't alone too much. His mother had been murdered, his sister had disappeared, and he'd gone from being ridiculously busy to having too much time on his hands.

"You sure?" Digg asked, looking at the corner of her computer screen where the time showed twenty-minutes past midnight. Oliver had gone out as the Arrow to stop a bank robbery and had also managed to thwart a mugging on his way back. Still, he showed no signs of calling it a night.

"Go home, Digg. Lyla's waiting for you," Felicity said, giving him a reassuring smile. "Besides, it's not like I can't sleep in tomorrow." She still needed to find a new job, something she wasn't looking forward too.

"True," Digg said with a smile. He turned and walked out of the room, calling goodnight to Oliver as he walked past his friend.

Fighting back a yawn, Felicity sat back, kicked her shoes off, and pulled her tablet into her lap. She was toying with her own facial recognition program, it was still in its early stages, but it would be nice to have a more sophisticated system, and even nicer to limit the number of times she had to hack the FBI in any given month.

"You don't have to babysit me you know."

Oliver's voice made her yelp and she nearly dropped the tablet. She'd been so engrossed in her code she hadn't realized he'd stopped working out and come stand next to her. "You scared me to death," she said, glaring. "And I'm not babysitting, I'm working."

"It's nothing that can't wait," Oliver said, his voice kind.

She smiled up at him. "I could say the same to you."

He nodded and then to her surprise sank down into the chair next to her, leaning his elbows on the desk. She watched his even expression fade away as if a mask were being slipped off. That mask was replaced with a look of pure exhaustion that made him appear several years older and threw the still healing cuts on his face into stark relief.

Unable to stop herself she reached across and put a hand lightly on the hard plane of his back. "Is it getting any easier?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper.

He looked back at her and the tiniest hint of a smile appeared. He gave one slow nod. "Yeah."

"Good," she said, smiling at him.

H let out a long frustrated sigh and scrubbed a hand across the back of his head. "But I still need to figure out what happened with Thea, and where I'm going to live, and a job, and…"

She moved her fingers lightly against the fabric of his t-shirt, "You'll get there."

That ghost of a smile actually reached his eyes for a moment. "If you say so."

"I do," she said, tilting her head and giving him her most confident look.

He sat up straighter and she reluctantly pulled her hand away. "The biggest problem," he said, "is that what I really want to do is just hide down here. I don't know how to be around…people."

"Oh," she said, frowning. Maybe she and Digg had been doing the wrong thing, maybe what he needed was more space. She moved her fingers to quickly close the program. "I can go. I didn't mean…"

His hand came out to rest on her wrist, and in rough voice he said, "You don't count…I always like having you here."

They simply stared at each other and in that moment she couldn't help but hear his words whisper through her mind – I love you. Swallowing she said, "And I always like being here."

A smile broke across his face, but there was something just a touch less genuine about it – part of the mask slipping back into place. "Still, we should go…we both need some rest." With that he stood up and moved to where his keys sat on a nearby table. Turning back he said, "Walk you out?"

"Sure," she said. "Sounds good."


	5. Making the Rounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity thinks she has a stalker - but it's not who she expects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For prompt FF#5 – Red Handed.

She hadn't been sleeping well the last few weeks. Even her old standby of Tylenol PM and the latest Nova on her DVR hadn't been working. Tonight though, she was determined to try. She had an epic job interview – Daniel Kord was looking for IT people to get a tech specific branch of his uncle's company up and running in Starling, and Felicity had managed, by some miracle, to get one of the coveted interviews.

So she took a long hot bath, pulled out a slightly boring novel and climbed under covers at exactly 10:35. Just as she was starting to feel hopeful that the marginal piece of chick lit in front of her might actually do the job of helping her go under, her tablet started beeping like crazy. Jumping out of bed, she went to her desk and saw it, a heat signature displaying on her newly installed proximity detectors. Someone was standing in her little yard not ten feet from her back door.

"Got you," she said feeling a mixture of fear and triumph. She'd seen footprints there twice in the last week, booted footprints far too big to be hers or those of the neighbor kids.

She grabbed her cell phone and quickly dialed Oliver's number. He picked up before the first ring finished and whispered, "Felicity?"

The whisper made her pause. "Are you out on a mission?" If he was that was news to her, he'd reassured her that he had no plans to do anything dangerous tonight.

"Not exactly," he said, and there was an odd tone in his voice.

"Good," she said, "Because apparently I've got something of a stalker, and according to my new proximity detectors he's the backyard right now. Would you…"

Oliver cleared his throat and spoke at full volume. "It's not a stalker."

"What?" she said, surprised.

She heard him let out a long sigh, and then he said. "Why don't you open your back door and we can talk about it."

Before she could fully process what he was saying there was a quiet knock on the door that led from her kitchen to the backyard. "You're in my yard?" she said in disbelief, but he'd already disconnected the call.

Turning on lights as she went, she reached the backdoor and threw it open. Oliver leaned against the door frame, wearing dark jeans, a black t-shirt, and a chagrined expression. "Hi," he said.

"Okay…hello," she said, unable to keep the surprise and irritation out of her voice. She stepped back from the door, "You want to come in, or does it mess with your lurking vigilante M.O.?"

Giving her an exasperated look that was softened by the slightest smile he stepped into her kitchen. She noticed his eyes traveling over her and she looked down. She was wearing grey yoga pants and a pink tank top – thankfully her doughnut pajamas were in the wash. When she looked back up she caught something in his eyes that made her face feel warm.

"Want some coffee?" she asked, and then she frowned. "Not that I can have coffee, I'm supposed to be getting sleep for my interview tomorrow and I don't have decaf in the house – but I could probably get you a cup."

"No, I'm fine," he said, and the smile grew wider by a fraction.

For a moment there was heavy silence. Finally she folded her arms across her chest, "You want to tell me why you're here?"

He let out a long tired breath and closed his eyes for a moment. "Can we sit down?"

"O-kay," she said. She tilted her head toward the opening from the kitchen to the living room. "Come on."

He followed her through the door and she sat on one end of her long couch, pulling her legs up underneath her and plopping a throw pillow in her lap. It was habit for her, the most comfortable spot and she didn't even think about it until Oliver sat down, a bit stiffly, on the very edge of the sofa at the far end. Leaning forward he put his elbows on his knees and looked across the room, not meeting her eyes.

"So," she said, unable to keep from smiling a little at how uncomfortable he obviously was. "You want to explain to me why I caught you skulking in my rosebushes?"

"If it's any consolation it's not just your rosebushes," he told her. "I've been keeping an eye on Diggle's place, and Roy's, and Laurel's. Just, you know, sort of making the rounds."

She felt her heart in her throat. Checking them all – making sure they were safe. "Every night?" she asked softly.

He shook his head. "Just the worst ones."

"But three times this week," she pointed out.

He finally looked back at her and some of the stiffness dropped from his shoulders. "How did you know?"

She shrugged, "Footprints…so I set up some new equipment."

Dropping his head a fraction he put a hand out. It didn't quiet reach her, but she stared at it, knowing he was trying, however subconsciously to bridge the distance. "I scared you," looking up she saw the regret in his eyes. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to do that, after all you've been through…"

Reaching out she closed the distance settling her grip over his hand. "I was just being careful…it's no big deal. And I knew you and Digg were only a phone call away."

He flipped his hand over, gave her hand a quick squeeze and then sat back against the cushions. "Always."

She smiled then, and, taking a deep breath she nervously said. "Can I make a suggestion?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"Next time you feel the need to come to my house and check on me, why don't you just come inside?" she suggested.

Leaning his head back on the edge of the sofa he looked over at her. He was so tired, she could see it in his face, and once again it worried her. "And if it's two in the morning?" he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

She shrugged. "I'll give you a key." Then realizing what she said, and the possible implications of it, she shook her head. "You know, no reason for a friend not to have something like that…after all I might leave the iron on sometime and need you to come over and turn it off. Not that I iron…I usually go to the dry cleaners and they…"

Her rambling was stopped this time with a hand on her shoulder. "I know what you mean," he said gently.

"And if this…" she continued, swallowing "If this is about not wanting to be home by yourself. You are always, always, welcome here."

He nodded, his hand still on her shoulder. "Sorry about the skulking. I just wanted to make sure you were safe."

Whether it was the late hour or the strangeness of having Oliver Queen on her couch, she didn't know, but feeling bold she leaned to touch her cheek to the back of his hand. "I am safe. Thanks to you."

To her surprise the words had the exact opposite effect of what she'd intended, and an expression came over his face that looked like physical pain. "No…not thanks to me. Felicity what happened with Slade…I hate that I…"

Throwing the pillow aside she scooted forward putting her hand on his arm. "If we hadn't stopped him I'd have been dead along with everyone else when those drones hit Starling," she said forcefully. "Your plan saved everyone…including me."

The pain in his face diminished a fraction, and the look in his eyes was so intense that she would have given up her tablet to know what he was thinking in that moment. "I use you as bait…and you're thanking me?"

She gave him a tiny smile. "Yes, I am."

"You're amazing," he whispered.

She didn't know how to respond, but before she could think of an answer his arm came around her shoulders and he pulled her gently against his side. "Can I stay a few more minutes?" he asked into her hair.

"Sure," she said, her voice coming out as a squeak.

They settled back against the couch and that night, Felicity Smoak had no trouble sleeping.


	6. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is darker than failing the one you love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For prompt FF#6 – In the Dark. Don't know if it was the prompt itself or my rough week but apparently the flavor of the day is short, intense, and a little grim.

It was so dark.

She couldn't see anything, could barely stand in the tiny space she'd been shoved into.

Her head pounded, and her face was slick with tears and blood from the cut on her forehead. But that was nothing compared to how she felt.

She had failed him.

Even in her drug addled state she could remember the needle sliding into her arm, and only moments later his name flying from her lips. The worst part was that she hadn't even been answering their question; she knew how Sodium Pentothal worked, so she'd started babbling about anything other than him. But when they'd hit her again she'd called out for him without thinking.

She remembered their laughter as they'd hauled her away, and a snide comment about, "Never trusting a woman."

Collapsing against the filthy ground, she gasped for breath. Her stomach roiled, whether from the knowledge of what she'd done or from the drugs she didn't know. He had trusted her with his secret, with his life, and she had failed him.

She didn't know if it was minutes or hours until a blinding flash of light filled the space around her. She heard frantic voices calling her name, but she couldn't bring herself to answer them. She belonged in the shadows.

"Felicity!"

She recoiled from the sound of his voice, pulling back into the darkness. His hands were on her arms then on her face. "It's me, Felicity. It's just me."

The words came out of her in a ghostly whisper. "I told them. I told them who you were."

He let out a growl, and there was a gentle shake on her shoulders. "Look at me, dammit!"

She opened her eyes, blinked against the light. His face came into focus, only inches from hers. The blue eyes, rimmed with the green mask, showed no anger or disappointment, only relief and concern. "Are you hurt?"

Unable to answer him, she felt wholly undeserving as he carefully picked her up from the dirty floor. She buried her head in his neck, wondering if she'd ever be this close to him again once he realized what she had done.

Letting out a sob she said. "Oliver, I told them who you were."

His arms closed more tightly around her, and his voice was a low murmur against her hair. "You didn't have a choice, love. It's all right."

The endearment startled her, and she pulled back to look at his face. "What?"

She saw a momentary flicker of shock roll across his features, and then a corner of his mouth jerked up into the tiniest of smiles. "Maybe I got dosed with a little truth serum too."

An insistent voice broke into the space between them. "Is she okay?" John Diggle asked.

"She will be," Oliver said. Felicity felt his lips brush against her forehead. "She will be."

And he carried her out of the dark.


	7. Eavesdropping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity overhear a very interesting conversation discussing the physical attributes of The Arrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I wrote carefully enough that I think this still keeps the General Audiences rating, there is one mildly suggestive comment. Oh, and it's pure, ridiculous, fluff – and has a Princess Bride reference thrown in for good measure. For Flash Fiction Prompt #7 - Illusions

"Oh come on, he has to be at least six foot-five," one girl said to another

"No way, the hood probably makes him seem taller than he actually is. And who picks all green? That's not exactly fashion forward."

Oliver nearly spit out his coffee at the word "hood" and Felicity reached to hand him a napkin as he choked. She looked over and, sure enough, two teenage girls were looking at a copy of that day's newspaper – a newspaper that featured reasonably clear images of The Arrow on its front page.

"Maybe Addy, but come on, he has to be hot," she replied to her friend.

Addy rolled her eyes. "If he's hot then why wear the mask? He probably got burned by acid or something."

Felicity put a hand over her mouth to keep from laughing out loud at Oliver's irritated glare as he wiped his face. The glare turned on her, but then seemed to soften slightly as if her amusement took the edge off his anger.

"Fine, the face is a question mark I'll grant you that," the friend agreed and Felicity couldn't help but let her eyes trace over Oliver's profile. Maybe she'd have to "anonymously" give a better sketch to the Starling City PD, just to take that question mark off the table. Even with his eyes hidden, his adoring female public should at least know about the jawline.

Oliver raised an eyebrow. "Don't you dare," he hissed.

"What?" she said innocently.

He didn't answer, but the look on his face made her wonder if he'd added mind reading to his skill set. "A little goodwill couldn't hurt," she said with a shrug.

Rolling his eyes, he picked up his coffee cup and turned his attention back to his breakfast in front of him. However, as the two girls continued to talk Felicity was surprised to see his face look slightly flushed around the edges. For youngsters, they sure were having fun with some frank speculation and admiration about exactly what lay behind the tight green leather suit. Felicity bit her bottom lip and felt herself blush as well…after all, they weren't wrong, and she wasn't blind.

That part of the conversation ended with Addy finally agreeing. "Okay, so the body is at least an 8.5 I'll give you that."

This time it was Felicity's turn to splutter and look indignant. Anything less than a ten was just ridiculous…of course they hadn't seen him shirtless, but still.

Her attention was brought back to her companion across the table when he cleared his throat. "You okay over there?" he asked. There was a fairly delighted smirk on his features.

She squared her shoulders and deliberately picked up her knife to spread jam on a piece of toast. "I'm fine." It was tough to be annoyed with the man when he got that sparkle in his eyes. He must really have been hell-on-wheels in his pre-island days.

The girls finally left their table and once they were gone Felicity let out a long breath. "That was one of my more interesting rounds of eavesdropping."

Oliver grunted, and took another bite of eggs. "Makes me want to rethink the tailoring on the suit."

Felicity let out a surprised giggle. "I don't know. Starling's had a rough year, at least you're giving the women in town something fun to speculate about. I mean before I knew that the vigilante was you, I…." she caught herself just in time and put the brakes firmly on that babble. "You know what, never mind."

His smirk had been replaced with an all-out grin now. "And what? Now you know what's behind the curtain, I'm just not that interesting?"

"Oh yeah" she said, unable to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. "Completely dull."

His eyes locked on hers as he set down his fork and ran a hand across his jawline. The one she'd just been so focused on. "Felicity, I…" Then he blinked and looked behind her. "Hey, Digg. Everything okay at home?"

John Diggle slid into the booth next to Felicity. "Just got the new food order," he said with a sigh. "Lyla's mind changes about every ten minutes." He looked from Felicity to Oliver and back again. "I miss anything interesting while I was gone?"

Oliver shook his head and took another bite of eggs. "No, not really, just that Felicity apparently thinks I'm a ten."

On instinct Felicity grabbed one of the sugar packets nearby and hurled it at his head. He reached up and caught it easily just before it would have smacked him in that too-handsome face of his.

"O-kay," Digg said, sounding confused. "Sounds like it was quite the conversation."

"Yeah," Felicity said, still glaring at Oliver. "Especially considering it wasn't even ours."


	8. Nothing to Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Arrow must reveal his identity or risk losing Felicity Smoak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF #6 – Nothing to Hide. This story owes a little bit of its inspiration to Smallville - another Oliver and his feisty blond hacker girl…clearly this man's type needs some revision in the comic book canon. Oh, and I admit this stretched to an hour and a half, but it was too fun not to finish properly, so sorry, call me a rebel.

The image on the computer monitor taunted Oliver. Felicity was being held by the ponytail and screamed at by a man in a ski mask. "Tell him!"

"No," she spat. "I won't." Her eyes found the camera, she had been crying, but her gaze was unflinching. "This was my choice, remember," she said, and he had no doubt the words were meant directly for him. "Don't give up everything you've worked for just…"

The masked man swore and Felicity was pulled violently away from the camera.

"Felicity!" Oliver shouted even though she knew he couldn't hear him. This was just a recording after all, hours earlier.

The man in the mask reappeared in the image. "Quite a girl you have there, loyal to her bones. And I'm going to reduce her to those bones unless you reveal yourself publicly to all of Starling City by 5 pm. We wouldn't want you to miss the evening news after all."

The man held something up in front of the camera, it was the necklace Felicity had been wearing around her neck and he ran it through his fingers. "Let's see what kind of hero you really are."

The screen went black.

Total horrified silence reigned amongst the three men standing in the lair as Oliver fought to control his anger and fear.

"Okay, so we know from the timing that these guys have to be close to the city. If we can find them…" Roy trailed off as Oliver moved toward the case that held his Arrow costume.

"What are you doing?" Diggle asked him.

"That deadline is in two hours," Oliver told the two other men, and he was surprised to hear his voice shaking. "There's not much chance we could find her in that time, and every minute I wait is another minute they could be hurting her."

"Oliver," John said, and his voice was so even, so gentle that it made him angry.

"No!" Oliver shouted, turning on his friend. "How can you of all people suggest there's any other way? You love her too."

John Diggle cleared his throat, blinking at Oliver. When he spoke his voice held anger and pain, but Oliver could tell he was trying to stay calm. "That's why I have to think about what she would want. You heard her…she doesn't want you to throw our work away."

"That's too damn bad," Oliver said. "My secrets aren't worth more than her life."

"It's not just your secrets at risk here," John reminded him. "I know things have been better between you and the cops, but do you think they're just going to look the other way at all the bodies we've dropped? There will be consequences to this Oliver."

Holding his hood in his hands Oliver stared at the familiar green leather. "There's only one consequence I can't live with, Digg."

Again that painful silence.

"I know I'm not exactly the poster boy for patience," Roy said into the quiet. "But maybe we need to just take a minute and think this through."

Oliver glared at him, "Roy, what if this was Thea," he turned on Digg, "Or Lyla?"

He watched Roy and Diggle exchange a look. Oliver realized in that moment the comparison he'd made, not just once, but twice over. Not a friend, or a partner, but the woman you loved.

"It was Lyla once," Digg said, his voice even. "Rotting in a jail cell in Russia, and you did everything you could to help me get her out. But we also had a plan, Oliver. And we need a plan now that doesn't just involve you throwing yourself in the line of fire."

"Fine," Oliver said, curling his fingers into his jacket until it the grip hurt. "You've got thirty minutes."

Digg gave Oliver a smile that seemed wholly out of place to their situation. "I don't need thirty minutes…we've already managed this once before."

"Managed what?" Roy asked.

"Had The Arrow in two places at once," Digg said.

Oliver looked up at his friend, feeling the first moment of hope since Felicity had gone missing. "Right, but how does that help, exactly?"

Digg took a deep breath and stood up. "There's just one sticky bit in my plan."

"What is it?" Oliver asked.

"We need to have an explanation for why Oliver Queen would claim to be The Arrow to save Felicity Smoak," Diggle said.

In that moment Oliver felt every stupid excuse he'd ever used with her tumble into the dust. Seeing her on that screen, beautiful, terrified and fighting for him had broken down the last of his idiotic resolve to keep her at arm's length. "I love her," Oliver said quietly. He looked up at Digg and Roy and swallowed hard. "At least on that point I have nothing to hide. Not anymore."

Digg and Roy both grinned and nodded. Digg nodded at Roy, "This one's better with a bow these days. Should we give him a temporary promotion?"

"Just don't get used to it," Oliver said, and he moved toward the crate where a second green suit sat waiting.

An hour later Oliver Queen in full Arrow gear walked out to face a madman on Founder's Plaza in Starling City. Every news camera in the city surrounded the plaza, waiting to see the results of the standoff.

Oliver saw the pain in Felicity's eyes, the way she spent every minute struggling to get free of the binding wrapped around her hands. Her ponytail was gone, blond hair spilling over her shoulders, and Oliver could see a purple bruise on one cheek. Grinding his teeth, he tried to hold her gaze, try to reassure her with his expression.

"Let her go," Oliver ordered, stopping ten feet from the man who still held a gun to her head.

The masked man shook his head. "You know the deal. Mask off or she dies." To make his point he shoved the barrel of the gun with bruising force against Felicity's temple.

Without another moment's hesitation, Oliver reached up and yanked back his hood, pulling off his mask. "I'm Oliver Queen," he said, "and I'm The Arrow."

He heard gasps and murmurs from the crowd, and the man in the mask began to laugh. Reaching down with a knife he cut the rope at Felicity's wrists. "I keep my promises," the man said, with obvious glee. "You're free to go."

Felicity lunged toward the man, but he held the gun up at her, forcing her to stop. The masked man tilted the gun toward Oliver. "If you're a good girl," he said mockingly, "I'll let you talk to him before I kill him."

"Felicity," Oliver said, his voice breaking as it echoed across the plaza.

She turned then, meeting his eyes, and then she was running, throwing herself into his outstretched arms. "You shouldn't have done it," she said, her voice thick with tears. "How could you do it?"

He put a hand to her face, and loudly enough so everyone could hear him he said. "Because I love you."

"But now everyone…" she started.

Unable to resist on so many levels, Oliver did something he'd always, always wanted to do, he leaned down and stopped her words with the deepest, hottest kiss he dared while being stared at by half of the city. She gasped against his mouth and he let himself have one more long taste before pulling back.

"How lovely," the man cooed. Then he pointed the gun directly at Oliver. "Now, push the young lady to the side. I see no need to kill her as well."

As if that had been a cue, an arrow sliced through the air, plunging into the shoulder of the madman. Oliver couldn't help the grin that spread across his face at the look of pure shock in Felicity's expression as a second masked man clad in green leather rappelled into the middle of the plaza. He was assisted by several well placed gunshots from an adjoining building and within in minutes the madman and his minions had been taken out.

With a little more swagger than Oliver was comfortable with, "The Arrow" walked toward himself and Felicity. As planned he held out his hand, and Oliver shook it. "Thank you," Oliver said, and the level of emotion in those two words did not need to be faked. "Thank you for helping me save her."

"She's my friend as well," Roy said, his voice effectively scrambled by the modulator. He winked at Felicity and then said, "I need to be going."

Another rappelling arrow and Roy was up and away, as several Starling City police officers finally rushed onto the plaza.

Oliver looked to Felicity and saw a look of confusion and something close to heartbreak on her face. Using his fingers to turn her chin up he said, "What is it?"

"It was another performance," she whispered her eyes filling with tears. "Just for the cameras."

"No," he said immediately, lacing his hand back into her hair and placing a kiss on her forehead. Leaning in he whispered, just loudly enough for her to hear. "I love you and I'm not hiding and I'm not pretending anymore."

And this time, she kissed him.


	9. Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity Smoak does a lot of waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF #6 – Sleepless Nights. I really struggled with this prompt for some reason and kept getting interrupted while working on it. So it was only an hour total, but it was admittedly over a couple days…and it's a fairly abrupt ending, but here it is anyway. Maybe I'll expand it a little and post it in a different collection later :-)

Tonight, she is once again waiting.

Felicity Smoak does a lot of waiting.

Usually it's after midnight, and usually she's alone, with only her computers to keep her company. Oh, sometimes Roy or Diggle is around, but often they are gone as well and it's her, in the silence, keeping her vigil that's both a curse and an honor.

She often tries to look busy if Digg or Roy returns first, for fear they will suggest she go home. For fear that she will have to spell it out for them – that she can't go home until she sees Oliver's face again. Can't sleep before she knows he's all right.

It's been like this since she helped Digg drag his ridiculously heavy frame into an abandoned building for the first, but not the last, time. Always waiting, listening, praying to hear his voice in her ear, his footsteps on the stairs.

Tonight has been especially long. It's is three o'clock in the morning, Digg and Oliver are out doing surveillance on a club that might be luring underage girls in as part of their normal routine. They could be hours yet, and she catches herself nodding off slightly, unable to suppress a yawn.

The voice in her ear is soft, the tone almost indulgent. "Go home, Felicity." She loves that voice. She can almost hear that tiny smile of his in it, the one he gives her so often these days.

She shakes her head slightly. "I'm fine, I'm fine."

Now Digg chimes in. "I promise we'll be okay Felicity. If we need something we can call you."

She squares her shoulders. "No, we're a team. If you guys are staying put then so am I."

She hears a sigh, though honestly she isn't sure which of them it comes from. Then Oliver says, "Then go lie down for a minute."

The only place to lie down is his cot, tucked in the back corner. She knows he sleeps there more nights than he's willing to admit, that is, if he's sleeping at all. And though part of her wants to protest, the thought of kicking her shoes off and curling up there is so appealing she can't fight it. "Only if you promise…"

"Everything will be fine," Oliver says, his voice is warm and reassuring, and that tone of voice more than anything convinces her it really is okay to take a break.

She goes to the cot, kicks off her red heels, sets her glasses on a nearby shelf and lies down. She pulls the blanket up over her, and blissfully realizes it even smells like him. If she has to wait, if she has to worry, than this is certainly the way to do it.

The gentle touch on her face brings her awake with a start, and she finds herself staring into a pair of wonderfully familiar blue eyes - at the very smile she'd been imagining.

"Hey, Sleeping Beauty," he says, his voice just above a whisper, his hand resting on her shoulder.

She doesn't know if it's the tone, or the smile, or the thought that he's just called her beautiful, but she closes her eyes, wondering if she's dreaming. When she opens them he is still there crouched beside the cot, the green leather traded in for jeans and a t-shirt. She remembers then why she is here and frowns. "I fell asleep."

He gives a quick low chuckle, and nods. "Yes, yes you did."

Reaching up she feels for the earpiece and finds it still there. "But I should have heard you talking…I should have…"

The smile widens. "We muted things on our end," he says.

She frowns, rubs her eyes. "But what if…"

The hand trails up to her face again, a ghosting touch of his knuckles against her cheek. It makes her hold her breath.

"You worry too much," he says, a frown line appearing between his eyes.

Without intending to she says the exact thought that goes through her mind. "I like worrying about you. I like that I get to." Then feeling brave she adds. "And I think you like having me here … when you get back."

She sees him swallow hard, and the knuckles stroke again over her cheek, lingering a little longer. "Yeah, I do," he says.

She smiles. "Then I guess I'll keep waiting."

He nods then, his eyes never leaving her face. "And I'll keep coming back to you."


	10. Ella Cendre

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An in-canon mashup of Arrow and Cinderella

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#10 "Stroke of Luck" – for some reason this made me think of a clock striking, which made me think of a certain fairy tale…and that leads us here.

"Just remember," Sara Lance told Felicity as she handed her a pair of diamond earrings, "you need to be out of there by eleven. Because…"

Felicity rolled her eyes and interrupted. "I set up the security hack remember? I'm the one who's making the facial recognition malfunction for two hours."

Sara seemed to take her irritation in stride and with a sympathetic look she asked, "Nervous?"

"Nervous? I'm not nervous." But Felicity's hands shook slightly as she slid the heavy diamonds into her ears. There was a tiny ear piece and tracker built into one of them. Thank goodness Oliver still had some toys left. Though she was trying really hard not to wonder why he had something like this lying around.

"Good," Sara said, though the laughing tone in her voice told Felicity she hadn't believed her. She handed Felicity a small gold bag and Felicity's eyes when wide as she saw the tiny handgun inside. "League of Assassins special issue. Don't lose it or I'll have some explaining to do."

Felicity nodded and climbed to her feet looking at herself in the full length mirror on the bedroom door. Her hair had been temporarily dyed a dark auburn color and she wore a filmy tulle-skirted, sleeveless gown in a pale ice blue. To go with the earrings she wore a large jeweled necklace, this one a very good fake, and she had to resist the urge to pinch herself at how unfamiliar she looked.

Sara came to stand in front of her. "Tell me your name," she said her voice all business.

Felicity gave her a firm nod, "I'm Ella Cendre."

"And how much are you worth?" Sara asked.

"Nine billion dollars, once my grandmother dies," Felicity said, and forced herself not to fidget or roll her eyes as the unfamiliar name came out of her mouth.

"And what's the plan?" Sara asked. Felicity gave her a look, but Sara's serious face didn't change. "The plan," she repeated.

"I go in, I seem aloof, and if necessary dance with a few guys until Lord Kalesque comes to dance with me – which he'll do because he's a gold-digging psychopath," Felicity said.

"And you're sure the device will work?" Sara asked.

Felicity nodded. "As long as I stay within two feet of him for at least three minutes, it will pull every scrap of information off of his phone."

Finally Sara grinned. "Ollie's right, you're remarkable." Then the smile disappeared. "Exit strategy?"

Honestly this was the most unnerving part of the plan. "I say yes when Oliver asks me to dance," she said simply. "And hopefully we walk out onto the back terrace and away into the night." 

___________________________________________________________________________

Oliver Queen tugged at the cuffs of his shirt and tried not to squirm. He was amazed that anything could still make him nervous, but Felicity running point on an op was apparently what it took.

She was also exactly seven minutes late. So he had his eyes glued to the double-doors leading into the ballroom and caught every moment of her entrance into the room. He swallowed hard and tried not to focus on exactly how well the dress fit her, or how exactly right one of his last family heirlooms looked sparkling against the odd auburn of her hair. She was so damned beautiful, and he had to grit his teeth when he realized just how many other men had noticed the same thing.

He watched her like a hawk, though he put his best lascivious playboy grin on his face as he did so, hoping the interest he showed in her would come off as simple attraction to anyone paying attention. Then realizing he'd once again let his mind wander he glanced down at his watch and swore. Kalesque was also late.

It was twenty more minutes before the man arrived, and it was pushing 10:40 before he finally figured out who Felicity was supposed to be and asked Ella Cendre to dance. They still had enough time, but barely.

Unfortunately as the song came to an end, Kalesque seemed decidedly unwilling to let go of the prize in his arms, and though Oliver couldn't blame him, he made his way slowly toward them. In one moment Felicity's gaze caught his and he saw nervousness bordering on fear there – Kalesque was known for his ruthlessness and if he had any idea of exactly who he was dancing with…

Oliver picked up his pace, nearly stepping on a couple who failed to move out of his way in time. Finally, he reached them and tapped hard on Kalesque's shoulder. The man turned with a murderous look but Oliver just smiled easily. "Sorry, but she promised this one to me, and I'm not willing to pass up the opportunity."

Kalesque gave Oliver a hard cold smile. "We're obviously looking for the same thing in a woman, aren't we?"

Clearly, Kalesque assumed that, sans-fortune, Oliver Queen was a gold-digger these days himself. Oliver didn't care what the man thought as long as he let go of Felicity. "I suppose so. And we all deserve a fighting chance." He came down hard on the word "fighting" allowing the smile to slip away to a hard glare.

Kalesque shrugged. "Very well." He turned to Felicity, took her hand and kissed it slowly. Subconsciously, Oliver was counting down the minutes. If they were lucky they had three of them left. Finally, the man stepped away and Oliver moved forward taking Felicity in his arms with a little more force than was entirely necessary.

He quickly maneuvered them toward the doors, and looked down at her, trying not to notice how amazing she smelled and the way she stepped closer, the front of her dress bushing against his tuxedo jacket. "You okay?" he asked.

She nodded quickly. "He's just extremely unpleasant."

They were almost at the doors when Felicity flinched hard, putting a hand to her ear.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Huge feedback squeal," she said her eyes going wide. "I think the security's back up."

"Take it off and drop it," Oliver ordered.

She shook her head. "But it's…."

"Don't argue with me," he said. "The guards outside might be able to sweep for them now and you'll never make it." They were on the terrace steps now, and not waiting for her, he reached up himself and pulled the diamonds from her ear, dropping the earring to the ground. "Now run."

"What about you?" she said, her voice a little panicked.

"I'll make sure you can get away," he told her calmly. "After all, nobody's going to be surprised if Oliver Queen crashed this kind of party."

She nodded and he watched as she flew down the stairs, disappearing into the darkness of the Starling City night.

___________________________________________________________________________

By all accounts the mission had been a success, but Felicity still felt a huge sense of disappointment that she couldn't put her finger on. Then finally as she sank into her chair in front of the computers she realized what the problem was. In her mind, as she had put on this crazy dress and all of the sparkling jewelry she had pictured herself very clearly – not taking down the bad guy –but dancing with Oliver.

She heard someone come into the room and looked up, surprised to see him there, tuxedo jacket over his arm and wearing a tired smile. "Well, you did it," he said, coming to stand next to her.

With a grin, she echoed back his own words of a few months earlier. "I had help."

He nodded. "There's just one thing that went wrong."

She frowned, "What's that?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the diamond earring. She could see that the small tracker and communicator had been removed. Reaching out, he handed it to her, and not even thinking about it she took it. "I'm so glad you were able to get it back," she said

"So am I," he replied.

The tone in his voice made her look up at him and the warm, intense look he gave her was exactly the look he'd had in her mind for that imaginary dance. He gave her a goofy smile, "You see, the girl wearing that earring was supposed to dance with me."

Felicity swallowed hard, and pushed to her feet, glad she hadn't taken off her heels. She slid the earring back on and said. "It's not too late."

He nodded, set his jacket down, and held out his arms.

She stepped into them, and for almost an hour – with only the music in their imaginations - Oliver Queen and Felicity Smoak danced.


	11. Who Are You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#11 "Who are you?" - This was inspired by the not one – but two - wonderfully goofy smiles Oliver had on his face in the Season Three preview.

It wasn't like she hadn't notice a change in him. Slowly, as things had settled down he'd become different, less intense, more communicative, and well, if she hadn't know better - even flirty.

There was the time when he gently flipped her ponytail after she leaned across him to get a better look at her second monitor. And the time he took her out for coffee when they were the last ones in the foundry at 5:30 in the morning; insisting she get two donuts instead of one when she couldn't decide between the flavors.

And then there was his quiet but unmistakable defense of her workout clothes when Roy had given her crap about wearing a pink floral tank top. Oliver had glared at the younger man and said, "It looks fine from where I'm standing." Roy had let out a knowing chuckle and Felicity had blushed and shot Oliver a startled look. He had just shrugged. "You should be able to wear what you want."

But today it was like her normal, brooding hero had been replaced with an alternate universe version of himself - the playful happy version.

She pushed back from her monitors. "I promise I'll get back to this," she said looking over at him. He was mending a spot that had come undone on his hood. "I just need to look at something else for a minute."

He looked up at her for a moment and then grinned. It was a grin that could have melted her toe nail polish. Then he put down the suit, tugged off his shirt, and said. "Well…since you asked."

She let out a startled giggle as he approached the salmon ladder and without ceremony quickly hauled himself to the top. Once there he looked down at her and winked. "Better?"

Nodding, she tried to sound calm as she said, "Better than ones and zeroes? Sure."

He knocked out a set of pull ups and then paused, hanging from the bar. "You know, we've been in this basement for four hours now, maybe it's time to actually go outside and do something."

She couldn't have been more surprised if he'd suggested trading in his green leather for a clown costume. "Who are you?" she asked, feeling her cheeks heat as she laughed.

He hopped down and then shrugged. "Maybe I'm just a guy who wants to see his hard-working Girl Friday get an evening off now and then."

Raising an eyebrow as he came toward her she said. "And are you taking this evening off as well?"

"Maybe," he said walking around to lean against the table. He was so close that the rough fabric of his pants brushed against her forearm. She swallowed as he folded his arms across his chest. "I could be talked into it. What would you do with your evening?"

She shrugged, leaning back in her chair a little. "The beach, or a pool maybe, if I could find one that was still open."

His eyes moved over her slowly and she had the suspicion that he was picturing her in a swimsuit- and he clearly liked the idea. "I could live with that," he replied.

Was he seriously suggesting they go to the beach? She had to fight the urge to check his temperature or even do a quick blood workup just to make sure there wasn't some sort of foreign agent in his system.

Before she could respond, a notice started flashing on her other monitor and she grumbled. "Looks like no beach for us," she said, not bothering to hide the disappointment in her voice. She slid her chair over and began typing, bringing up the information that was streaming in from her connection to the SCPD.

"What is it?" he asked leaning over her to look, and dropping one large warm hand on her shoulder in the process.

"Jewelry store robbery," she told him. "Second one this week."

As he read the information she was distracted by the circles his thumb was rubbing against the bare skin of her upper arm. It felt ridiculously good. He sighed and stepped back. "I'll get changed. Call Digg and Roy, I might need a little backup."

"On it," she promised, starting to type in the commands that would dial both of their numbers.

He moved toward bow and then stopped turning toward her. "Just out of curiosity what color is your swimsuit?"

She let out a startled laugh. "The one I usually wear is bright blue with white polka dots – it has kind of a fifties pin-up girl vibe."

He looked up at the ceiling shaking his head, and when he looked back at her that mischievous grin was back. "I'd definitely like to see that."

"Uh…yeah…well, I guess, I mean there's a few weeks of summer left and I suppose I could…well we could," she realized she was babbling and forced herself to close her mouth. Taking a deep breath she squared her shoulders. "Aren't you supposed to be stopping a burglary?"

He laughed – a full on real laugh. It was something she wasn't sure she'd ever heard come out of him before. "Thanks for keeping me on track," he said, turning to go change.

She shook her head as he walked away. Whatever version of Oliver this was – she certainly liked it.


	12. Whatever It Takes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#12 - Whatever It Takes. Really struggled with the prompt this week, and I don't know how well this turned out. Be warned, it's angst city.

"I need you to find a way to scramble the voice print on every call coming out of Queen Consolidated in the next forty-eight hours," Oliver said, clipping his bow into its case.

"Excuse me?" Felicity said, frowning at both the commanding tone and the extreme nature of the request. "Why on earth…"

"I don't have time to explain," he said, hurrying to change his clothes. "Just do it please, and if you could manage it in the next three hours that would be my preference."

Felicity sighed and turned back to her monitors rubbing a hand across her forehead. She wondered if he had any idea of the project he had just dropped in her lap at 8:43 pm on a Saturday night. It wasn't that she couldn't do what he had asked, of course she could, but it wasn't going to be easy and it wasn't going to be fun. It also, in terms of tangible rewards, wasn't going to get her a single thing. Not even, knowing Oliver when he was in this kind of mission focused mood, a word of appreciation.

But she was going to do it anyway.

There were moments, especially over the last few months, when Felicity was aware of the fact that her pre-Oliver MIT girl-power self would be mystified and a little pissed at what her life had become. About the fact that it basically all revolved around one man and his mission to save Starling City. Granted it was her mission as well, and she wasn't exactly the type to commit multiple cyber-felonies unless she believed in what she was doing. Still, if she was being honest with herself a large chunk of it was all about the man who stood at the center of that mission.

As she began working through the steps it would take to fulfill the request Oliver had made of her she wondered, not for the first time, how things might have been different if she hadn't fallen hard for the vigilante who climbed into the back of her car. If instead of Oliver, it had been someone like John Diggle, someone she loved and respected, but didn't yearn for. Someone with whom she could have been friends and partners, without all of the emotional drama Oliver Queen seemed to elicit in her.

As if summoned by her thoughts he hurried back into the room, out of green leather and back in a business suit, still buttoning his shirt buttons as he walked, his tie draped unknotted around his neck. His hair was damp and there was no hiding the growing bruise on his right cheekbone.

"How late am I?" he asked her, reaching for the tie.

She'd almost forgotten that Walter had suggested he have drinks with some bigwig that they thought could help Oliver out with his Queen Consolidated issues. "By the time you get there, fifteen minutes," she told him. "Perfect for your playboy reputation."

He grunted, looping the blue silk and pulling it tight.

She pointed to his face. "How are you going to explain that?" she asked.

Frowning, he said, "Explain what?"

"Your cheek's turning a lovely shade of purple-green," she told him. She reached for her purse, pulled out a compact and handed it to him.

He grabbed the mirror from her hand and held it up. Swearing under his breath he let out a long sigh and she watched his shoulders slump. For just a moment the driven vigilante disappeared and a very real, very battered man stood in his place.

Even though things had been rough for them for the past few weeks she found herself climbing to her feet. Taking the mirror from him she put a hand gently on his battered cheek. "Maybe you should sit this meeting out. Get some rest. You're pushing yourself too hard, Oliver."

His eyes met hers, and then he closed them, and for one long second they just stood there together, her fingers sliding slowly down his jaw. Then as if a switch had been flicked his shoulders straightened. Reaching up he gave her hand a quick squeeze before stepping away from her. "Maybe I am, but I'm going to do whatever it takes to get this city and my families company back on track." He glanced at her computers. "Let me know once you have the voice scrambling in place."

Without another word he turned and walked out of the room.

Swallowing hard against the emotion in her throat, Felicity turned back to her computers. Then squaring her own shoulders she stepped back toward her work and echoed his words. "Whatever it takes."


	13. Too Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity discovers a shocking piece of information about her family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#13: Silent as the Grave.
> 
> So I blame the whole "Oracle" episode title spoiler for this. It's an extremely unlikely scenario, but I couldn't resist. If you happen to be a Batman purist you might want to skip this one.

The moment she came through the door, he knew something was very wrong. On the surface she looked the same, she was wearing the same blue dress as when he'd left her at work, the same high heels, and the same perfect ponytail. But clearly for her, everything had changed.

As she came down the stairs, her movements robotic, she wasn't looking at him, or anything for that matter, and she was as quiet as he'd ever seen her. It wasn't just her lack of words, it was the way every movement was smaller, less energetic, like she was trying to take up less space in the world.

He went toward her – reaching out for her – before she'd even cleared the last of the stairs. Grabbing her arm he said, "What is it?"

She blinked up at him, as if seeing him for the first time. In her hand she held a piece of paper, and wordlessly she held it out to him. It was a news article printed from a computer with the headline, "Gotham's Commissioner Shot in New Royal Flush Heist." It showed a middle-aged man in a formal police uniform, his face craggy and slightly tired.

Ok, so it was unfortunate that they hadn't caught the new family of thieves that had taken up the mantle the Reston's had left behind. He knew she'd been tracking them, and he could understand why this would make her upset, but her reaction seemed too extreme. "Felicity, we will get these guys, I promise, Don't…"

She shook her head slowly from side to side and with a shaking hand she pointed to the man in the picture. "I think…I think that's my father."

"What?" Oliver said, wondering if he'd misunderstood her. As far as he'd been able to discover, James Worthington had been a mostly drunk handyman who had disappeared from Felicity's life at the age of five. She'd told him they'd never had any contact with the man, so how could…

"I looked him up…you know, in all these years, it was the first time I ever tried…" the words came out slow, as if she was struggling to speak. He maneuvered her toward a chair and when she didn't sit, he pushed her lightly on the shoulders until she finally collapsed, as if folding under too much weight.

Oliver knelt in front of her, reaching up to touch her face. "Tell me," he said simply.

"James Worthington Gordon," she said the words dully. "Known to the good people of Gotham City as Commissioner Jim Gordon. Apparently he has a sterling career record…" she let out an odd, bitter laugh, "except for one six year gap that occurred about 27 years ago, when he fell off their radar after shooting a dirty copy."

Oliver didn't know what to say. He had no idea how to make this better for her. Hell, he didn't know what part of it had rattled her so much. So he settled for the simplest two words that came into his head. "I'm sorry."

She blinked and this time tears fell. "He has a family there, a wife and a son."

Oliver scanned over the paper in his hand for an important detail that suddenly occurred to him. His eyes found the words, _critical but stable condition _. Well, at least the guy wasn't dead. That was good, wasn't it?__

__"What do you want to do?" Oliver asked her._ _

__She shook her head and reached up to wipe the tears away. "Nothing."_ _

__"Felicity," he said, letting his tone carry his feelings of disbelief._ _

__"I thought, as much as I loved him as a little girl, that he was just some jerk, you know," she said, nearly yelling. The yelling, he thought, was better than the silence at least. "But no, it wasn't that he didn't want a family… he just didn't want me."_ _

__Her voice broke on the last word, and Oliver leaned forward pulling her into his arms. "Then he is a jerk…and an idiot," he said into her hair._ _

__"That article calls him heroic," Felicity sniffed against his shoulder._ _

__Oliver clenched his teeth, feeling a surge of anger. Logically, he knew there had to be more to the story. Logically, he knew something about starting over after a dark period in your life. But right now that logic was doing nothing to keep him from wanting to fly across the country and throttle James Worthington – chest wound, or no chest wound._ _


	14. The Peril of Heels

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity takes a fall, guess who's there to pick her up?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#14 Oops!

It was the kind of thing that made a girl reconsider wearing high heels.

She had just sent Digg home and was humming to herself as she crossed the lair, heading to get a leftover egg roll. Hearing an odd rushing noise she looked up at the pipes that coursed across the ceiling. She had just enough time to register the drop of water that hit her face before she felt her right foot slide away from her body. Throwing out her hands she tried to maintain her balance, but four inch heels and wet uneven concrete were a disastrous combination. She felt the pop in her right ankle just before her hands slammed into the floor. The final insult was hearing several inches of the seam of her brand new pencil skirt rip as her left knee crashed painfully against the ground.

For a second she couldn't move, stunned by the fall. Letting out a groan as she started to pick herself up she heard Oliver's voice in her ear. "Felicity, you okay?"

Right, she was still connected to Oliver. He was out harassing the latest con artist to sweep through Starling and was on his way back. "I fell," she said, even as she tried to pull her right leg back under her she could tell something was wrong with her ankle.

"You fell?" Oliver said, sounding confused.

"There's a pipe leaking," she said, unable to keep the irritation out of her voice. "It made the floor slippery." She grit her teeth as she reached down to pull off her heels, but even still a hiss of pain snuck out between her lips.

"That's not good," Oliver said, sounding truly worried for the first time. "I'm almost there."

"It's not a big deal," she protested.

"I'm almost there," he repeated firmly, as if she hadn't spoken, and in the background she heard the sound of his bike engine growl as he apparently picked up speed.

Rolling her eyes, Felicity used her bruised hands and her left leg to climb unsteadily to her feel. Looking down at herself she grimaced, her light blue skirt was wet and grimy, the ragged seam split to mid-thigh which gave her a great view of her bleeding left knee. She reached up and muted the connection to Oliver. "Lovely," she muttered.

Hobbling across the room she made it to her chair and sat down. She wiped her hands on a cleaner bit of her skirt and leaned down to examine her ankle. If anything it was getting more painful as she sat, and it felt oddly squishy as she tried to move it. She was just about to Google sprained ankles when she heard Oliver pounding down the stairs.

He pushed his hood back as he walked toward her, a really adorable look of pure concern visible even behind the mask. "Are you alright?"

"Watch that spot," she said as he crossed the floor. "Though I suppose motorcycle boots are probably better for that kind of thing."

Ignoring her comment he set his bow on a table and came to stand in front of her, his eyes coasting over her quickly. "That ankle could be broken," he said, zeroing in on it. "We'd better get you to a hospital."

She leaned back in her chair, staring up at him. "Seriously? You're going to make me go to the hospital for a sprained ankle? I don't think so."

Pulling his gloves off, he knelt down beside her, and she had to swallow hard as he took her ankle in his warm hands. It was a fascinating combination having something hurt and yet feel so good at the same time. However when his hand pushed up on her heel she couldn't help but let out a little gasp of pain.

He looked up at her, his hand sliding up to squeeze her knee. "It really could be broken. We definitely need to have a doctor look at it."

Trying not to notice that his thumb was tracing little patterns against her knee, she attempted to sound indignant. "Well, we wouldn't if you'd agreed to that x-ray machine."

She was rewarded with one of his rare genuine smiles, and he gave a little shake of his head. "We have to be a little more frugal these days remember?" Pushing to his feet, he walked toward their first aid supplies and came back with antibacterial wipes and a bandage. "Why don't you take care of that knee while I go change."

He was back in minutes, by which time Felicity had managed to get her hands cleaned up and clamp the bandage over the goriest spot on her knee. Grabbing her coat and purse he handed them to her and said, "Get your keys for me, will you?"

"My keys?" she said, frowning.

He looked at her like she'd hit her head. "I don't think you want to drive with a broken ankle and I can't very well stick you on the bike like this."

Part of her wanted to protest, to insist that she could take care of herself, but he did have a point, and her ankle was really, genuinely starting to hurt. She handed him her keys as he came over to her and she put her arm up, expecting his help to stand. Instead she found herself being easily scooped up into his arms. "Oliver!"

"What?" he grunted, moving them toward the stairs. It wasn't the first time he'd carried her like this, but the last time they'd been in a life threatening situation and she'd had a concussion so she hadn't been able to fully appreciate, or be unnerved by, just how good it felt to have his arms around her. Even with the ankle pain and the ripped skirt, the main thought she was wrestling with was how easy it would be for her to lean up and kiss that perfectly stubbled jaw of his.

"I don't need you to carry me, you could just help me walk," she protested, swallowing as he moved his hand slightly against the bare skin at the back of her knee to get a better grip as he started to climb the stairs.

He looked down at her and the gaze was warm with the slightest tough of humor. "This is simpler," he said.

"There's nothing simple about being this close to you," she said, the thought coming out of her mouth before she could stop it. Oops. "I mean…"

To her utter surprise he leaned down and planted a kiss against her hair. "I know what you mean." When he pulled back he smiled and nodded toward the door. "Now, put in the key code so we can get out of here."

Felicity reached out and punched in the six digit code, then allowed herself to relax into Oliver's hold as he carried her out toward her car.

Maybe wearing heels hadn't been such a bad choice after all.


	15. Day and Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#15 Bad Day, Good Night

When he’d first come back from the island Oliver Queen had felt like his life was split in two. During the day things weren’t too bad, he could be a son to his mother, a brother to his sister, a decent friend to Tommy, and for a few hours pretend that he wasn’t a broken killing machine.

Then night would come. He’d put on a hood and terrorize criminals and kill his soul a little more with each person he thoughtlessly hurt or killed. If he was lucky he’d exhaust himself into a stupor that meant he could get three or four hours of uninterrupted sleep. If luck wasn’t with him he sweated and screamed his way through a couple of nightmares before giving up on sleep altogether. 

It was Felicity, of course, that made him realize how much things had changed.

“Bad day?” she asked as he came into the lair, pulling loose the knot on his tie with a long sigh.

He nodded numbly. “I’m as bad at being a figure head as I was at being CEO,” Oliver told her. “And I just found out that they layed off someone my dad hired thirty years ago, and I couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it.” 

She stood up from her computers and came toward him. “I’m sorry.” Putting her hand on his arm she tilted her head back toward the table. “I stopped and got tacos from that food truck downtown. You want some?”

He nodded again, feeling some of the wearing frustration of the day slide away as he pulled out of his jacket. “Where are Digg and Roy?” he asked. 

“Roy was feeling restless, so they had their tacos and Digg took him to check out that warehouse on Anderson Street. I don’t think there’s anything there, but, well…he needed something to do,” she said, sitting down in her chair and using her black heel clad toe to pull another chair around. 

“That’s good,” Oliver said, moving to sit in the chair she’d pulled out. Felicity handed him a couple of tacos from a bag, and took out one for herself. “Seconds?” he asked nodding toward hers.

She shook her head. “I waited for you. You want hot sauce?” 

He couldn’t help but smile at the fact that both sentences were said in exactly the same happy, casual tone. Shaking his head at her question, he swallowed as he realized just how much the first four words meant to him. _I waited for you._ That was Felicity. Determined to be there for him even when he was making the worst kinds of mistakes, even when his demons made their relationship forty times more complicated that it needed to be. Taking a bite of the taco to help cover his emotions he watched as she turned back to her computer and begin typing in commands, occasionally taking bites out of her own cold, but nonetheless very edible taco. 

A frown appeared on her face. 

“What is it?” he asked. 

She turned back to him and shook her head. “I’m not telling you yet.” 

He shot her a confused look, and she squared her shoulders. “You need to finish at least two tacos and drink a bottle of water before you run off to fight crime.” 

Part of him wanted to argue, but tonight that part was overridden by a swamping sense of gratitude. “Thank you,” he said. 

“For what?” she asked, surprised.

He shrugged and stared at his shoes. “For caring.” 

Leaning forward she placed a kiss on his cheek. It took the breath out of him and made him clench his hand into a fist to keep from reaching for her. “Someone has to,” she said, lightly, though he could tell there was an undercurrent of sadness in her voice. “We need our hero in fighting form after all.” 

Not able to look at her, Oliver finished his dinner and dutifully went to suit up when Felicity told him that there was a suspected major drug deal going down near Starling’s West High. As he was about to leave, she called his name, “Oliver?”

He turned, and she gave him a smile. “Be careful, I want you home in one piece.” 

_Home._

Yes, his life was still divided into two parts. 

But now he had bad days and good nights.


	16. Maybe If It Rains Sleeping Bags

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity get lost in the woods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#16 Detour - A little homage to the X-Files episode of the same name. Honestly, I have no idea how long this took. I kept getting interrupted, and just wrote until I'd finished.

"So, we're lost," Felicity said, trying not to show just how nervous she was.

"We aren't lost," Oliver insisted. "We've just…" he looked up at the sky for a moment. It was clouded over and getting darker by the minute. The trees around them seemed ominous instead of beautiful for the first time that day. "Okay, so maybe we're a little lost."

"Great. And it's not like there's a creepy stalker guy trying to kill you out here or anything," she said. "Oh wait, there is." She knew her sarcasm didn't help, but it was a defense mechanism. It was one of the few available to her since her tablet, with its handy tracking device had slipped out of her hand and into a stream an hour ago.

Oliver turned around and gave her an irritated look.

"Sorry," she said. "Though if you'd have let me buy that satellite phone I wanted, we wouldn't be in this mess."

Oliver took a long deep breath and started to reply but then his mouth snapped shut. With one quick move he shoved her behind him and turned, pulling a gun from his waist band and pointing it toward the tree line.

Before Felicity could even react a shot rang out. Oliver fired at the same moment and then grunted as the bullet sliced into his side, knocking him backward into Felicity. "Oliver!" she called out.

"Stay down!" he ordered, pushing her toward the ground and taking off toward the spot where the shot had come from.

Felicity watched as he disappeared into the trees, sending up a prayer to any deity that would listen that it wasn't the last time she'd see him. It was eerily quiet for a few moments and she was just deciding that she was going to follow him, flying bullets or not, when he called out. "Looks like he took off again, but I got him."

The last word came out slightly strangled and it made her hurry as she went toward his voice. She found him leaning hard against a tree, one hand clamped over a growing red stain on his blue flannel shirt. He pointed to a spot where the undergrowth had been trampled down, "Took off that way, bleeding worse than me. I should try and track him…"

"No," Felicity said pointedly. She pulled her jacket off and then the blouse she had underneath. Luckily she'd warn a tank top that day, or things could have been seriously creative. "It's getting dark, and unless you have some sort of supernatural night vision and healing we are going to find shelter and wait until someone finds us."

The fact that he didn't argue with her told her that things were as perilous as she thought.

"Here," she said. "Pull your shirt up so I can see."

He gave her a small mischievous smile. "I imagined you saying that under different circumstances."

Rolling her eyes she couldn't help but smile, knowing he was trying to cheer her up. Though she nearly winced at the sight of the deep bullet graze in his side she still managed to reply. "Very platonic ones I'm sure."

"Nope," he replied, hissing slightly as she pressed the fabric of the blouse against the wound.

Startled slightly she looked up and though his expression was deadpan there was a look in his eye that let her know he'd meant what he said. He held her gaze for a minute then looked up, searching the area around them. Nodding to the left he said. "I think that set of rocks is the best we can do. At least it gives us something to put our backs up against."

Though Oliver moved a bit slowly he made his way over to the rocks without any help. However when she looked up at him there was a sheen of sweat on his face and she saw him shiver slightly in the cool evening air. "Sit down," she ordered.

He shook his head. "We need a fire."

"Won't that draw in crazy guy?" she asked.

Oliver shrugged and winced. "He knows where we are, and the heat and light can only help us."

"Fine," she agreed. "Sit down and I'll start it."

To her surprise he again didn't argue, going toward the rocks and lowering himself gingerly onto the ground. However, when she pulled off her jacket and handed it to him he shook his head. "No way, you'll freeze."

"You're hurt Oliver, and the last thing we need is for you to go into shock," she insisted.

"I won't if you just get the fire started already," he said, giving her a hard look.

Putting her jacket back on she managed to find some dry twigs and a collection of smaller branches that she hoped she could break with her knee. She organized them into a teepee shape with handfuls of dry pine needles in the middle.

"Were did you learn how to do that?" Oliver asked.

She looked back at him and gave a small smile. "You're not the only one with a secret past, buddy. The trick is going to be lighting it. I suppose I can try the bullet method, or the drill thing…"

Oliver shook his head, "As much fun as it might be watching you try." He reached into one of the pockets of his cargo pants, pulling out a lighter. At her questioning look he shrugged. "Get stranded on an island for five years and you start to carry a few things around with you."

Within minutes Felicity had a small fire going and had broken apart a respectable pile of the small branches. Satisfied she moved back and sat down next to Oliver. She noticed that while the safety was on he still held his gun in his hand. "You think he might come back."

Oliver looked at her and she could see him weighing his response. Finally he nodded slowly. "If we're lucky he's too injured, but there's no way to really tell." At the end of the sentence she caught him shiver again.

There didn't seem to be any point in responding to that, and she searched for something positive to say. "I don't suppose you have a sleeping bag and two cups of coffee in those pockets of yours?"

A smile big enough to show his bright white teeth slid over his face. "So we need two cups of coffee but only one sleeping bag?"

She shook her head, feeling her cheeks heat slightly, but determined not to let him get the best of her she gave him her best flirty smile and said, "Well, we'd be warmer that way."

He nodded, still grinning and let out a sigh. "You make me really wish I had one." Then the grin slipped a fraction and she saw a flicker of pain.

"Here," she said, she reached her arm around his shoulder and nudged him sideways into her lap, pulling the flap of her jacket out so his back was against the warmth of her skin. She drew her knees up a bit as well, hoping the contact would help keep him warm. She had no doubt Digg would show up eventually, but they were at least a couple of hours from the nearest road. "You should rest," she said, putting her arms around him and settling her chin against his hair.

He shook his head. "Can't. He might come back."

"Give me the gun," she said. "I'll stay awake."

The cold metal of the pistol was gently moved into her grip. "Keep talking, that way I'll know you're still awake," he said quietly.

That made her laugh a little, "That seems to defeat the purpose of you getting rest."

"I don't care," he said, and there was a bit of an edge to the words, something nervous that reminded her that being stuck in the woods probably brought up a very special set of bad memories for him. "Let me hear your voice."

And so she began to speak in her softest tones, talking about anything and everything until heavy even breaths convinced her he had fallen asleep. "And I should tell you," she continued, allowing her fingers to trace across his cheek, "that one of the best and weirdest days of my life was when the boss's stepson came into my office with a laptop and a ridiculous story."

"Mine to," he muttered, as one of his hands closed warmly over her knee.

Startled she tensed and went silent. The hand at her knee gave a gentle squeeze, "Keep talking."

And for three hours, until Digg finally found them, she did.


	17. The Scorecard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#17 Impulses - Since I went the obvious route with the prompt I decided to try and do something unusual stylistically. I'm not sure if I love it or hate it, but here it is.

The Scorecard

He's started making lists in his head of all of the little things he wants to do; wants to say. Keeping score of how many times he gives in and how many times he manages to resist.

8:05 am – He wants to wipe the tiny smudge of cappuccino foam from her top lip. He resists.

8:15 am - He wants to tell her how much he likes her new, green, very high heels. He gives in.

8:17 am – He wants to taste the flirty smile that appears as she says, "Thank you. I liked the color." He resists.

8:20 am – He so wants to punch Palmer in the face when he also notices said shoes. He resists, and resists and resists.

8:22 am – He wishes he could tag along like a lost puppy to her technical affairs meeting instead of going to some meeting where he's only there for his name. He resists.

9:33 am – He wants to text her and tell her that someone is actually eating the bagels in the QC conference room. He gives in.

9:35 am- He wants to zone out of the ridiculous meeting and text her again, asking her to lunch. He gives in.

10:35 am – He wants to pitch his phone out the window when she texts back that she's sorry but Palmer already asked her. He resists.

1:15 pm – He wants to make a rude comment about the fact that she's back late from lunch. He gives in, and then wishes he hadn't.

2:30 pm – He wants to walk into her new office with a cup of coffee and apologize for being an ass. He gives in.

2:40 pm – He wants to tell her that her new plans for the QC tech infrastructure are brilliant. He gives in.

2:42 pm – He wants to stare at her stunning smile, and keep staring way past the time that it would be sensible to look away. He always gives in.

2:45 pm – He wants to pull out the chair across from her desk, sit down, and listen to her like it's the only thing he has to do today. He resists.

5:05 pm – He wants to ask her if he can walk her to her car. He gives in.

5:15 pm – He wants to tell her they should both take the night off, go do something fun, something that would erase the tired circles from under her beautiful eyes. He resists.

8:20 pm – He wants to smile when Roy says, "Queen, your girl is scarier than you are" when Felicity yet again does something magical with a keyboard. He gives in.

9:05 pm – He wants to punch Diggle when he asks her about lunch with Palmer. He resists, but only because it's Digg.

9:45 pm – He wants to look over his shoulder and catch a glimpse of that ponytail one more time before the night swallows him up. He gives in, and she sees him.

10:15 pm – He wants to walk back and kiss her goodbye. Every time he walks away dressed like this he knows it could truly be goodbye. He resists

12:47 am – He wants to touch her face when she hovers over him putting pressure on his wounds as Digg sews them shut, yet again. Wants to feel something other than pain. He gives in.

1:16 am - He wants the same thing he wants every night the moment she walks away from him. He wants to tell her to stay. Tell her he meant it. Pull her into his arms and never let go. He resists.

Today's score: Impulses 11 – Willpower 10

And every day, no matter what the score, he has a feeling he's losing.


	18. The Best Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had to skip prompt eighteen. I was on vacation last week and I tried to hash something out, but everything I tried to write was utterly boring. So this is for FF#19 – That Night.
> 
> Warning – angsty waters ahead.

It had been a simple ceremony in front of the Justice of the Peace. She'd been surprised to be asked to be the maid-of-honor. She had a feeling that was more Digg's doing than Lyla's, but she dutifully held Lyla's small bunch of red roses, and tried to smile when the groom kissed the bride. Tried, and failed, not to let her eyes slide to the best man. A man whose smile shifted into something wrecked for the three seconds their gazes held.

The wedding party was small, but she'd managed to sit at the opposite end of the table at the restaurant where they'd gone to dinner. Had managed to go the entire day without saying more than three words to Oliver Queen. Most of the time she could pretend, could go back to being Girl Friday, but right now, she just couldn't seem to manage it.

When the dessert plates were empty, John Diggle took his not-so-new bride by the hand and led her onto the dance floor. Felicity stood, unable to sit still any longer, and hoped the tears in her eyes read as happiness – because she was happy, for them.

When his voice broke into her thoughts she couldn't help the small flinch.

"Dance with me," he said, just above a whisper.

"You don't dance," she replied, still not looking at him.

"True," he agreed. "But this situation requires an exception."

"Why?" she asked. She turned then and found him standing at her shoulder, just a breath away.

For a moment she thought he wasn't going to answer. Then she saw the pain in his eyes, unmasked for the briefest moment. "Please."

She nodded and let her hand fall into his. After everything, it shouldn't have fit so easily but it did, and as always she was taken with how warm his skin was.

The music was some ridiculous nineties era love song that would make her cry two weeks later when she heard it floating through the air at the grocery store. He put his arms around her and there was no polite attempt to keep distance, no awkward effort at conversation, he just pulled her against him, and she went, tucking her head underneath his chin. In that first moment she was surrounded by him she felt a stab of fear so sharp that she almost turned and ran. But she was tired of being frightened and angry, so she blocked out those thoughts and made a decision.

She was going to have this one moment, just one, to be the woman in his arms.

His head turned and she felt his lips again her temple. "You look beautiful," he said.

Closing her eyes, she turned her face further into the stiff dark fabric of his suit jacket. She couldn't look at him as she confessed. "I remembered that you liked me in red."

She heard him swallow, and felt his breath brush her cheekbone as he leaned his head down toward her. "I like you in anything."

Shaking her head, she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes. "Plus, you know, red is so … not bridal. I thought it might help…you know, not to…"

"It didn't," he said, an edge of a growl in his words. "I still see it, every time I look at you."

And with stunning clarity, the memory came as it always did. That conversation, that night, when he'd told her exactly what she was to him – the promise of something better, a life beyond the hood, a future, "the damned white-picket-fence" as he'd so eloquently put it.

"Still think you can't have it?" she said, and the anger crept back in to plant an edge in her voice.

She felt him stiffen, start to pull back, but she held tight, softened her voice. "Don't … just keep holding me. Please."

He nodded, his expression a mixture of tenderness and pain. "I can do that."

They got exactly six and a half minutes before a voice broke in.

"Come on, you need to make a toast or something," Roy said slapping Oliver on the shoulder. "After all dude, aren't you the best man?"

"Yes," Felicity said, pulling quickly away from him. "He definitely is."

Oliver shot her a sharp questioning glance and she gave a wobbly smile and a nod. Selfish, stubborn, and ridiculous yes…but still the best man..


	19. Truth or Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#20 - Truth or Dare. This was a tough prompt for me. My brain wouldn't go anywhere but a literal direction, I kind of hate the game Truth or Dare, and for some reason couldn't imagine post-island Oliver playing it unless he was forced to. So in the end, I again "borrowed" from _Smallville _, and did just that. After all, if there can be two versions of Oliver Queen, there can be two versions of deadly-lie-detector-using bad guys, right? Oh, and in the spirit of Truth, this definitely went way over an hour.__

Oliver Queen had experienced a lot of unpleasant wakeup calls in his life. But this one…this one, he suspected, might take the prize. The worst part wasn't the funny taste at the back of his throat that let him know he'd been drugged, or the blinding light that flooded his eyes, or the fact he could barely move, or even the disturbing sing-song voice he easily recognized as the psycho-kidnapper they'd been hunting.

No the worst part was that when his vision finally cleared, the first thing he saw was Felicity. She sat across the table in front of him, bound tightly to a metal chair. Her head was awkwardly slumped against her chest and he could see a scrape across her jaw.

That was the problem about offering yourselves up as bait. Sometimes you got caught.

His eyes snapped toward the voice of the man the press had named the Sweetheart Snatcher. The little man was muttering a steady stream of nutjob vitriol. "Lies, lies, lies, but I'll change you all. I'll make you good, I'll make you true…"

"Let her go," Oliver growled, his voice grating out of a dry throat.

The man glanced up, his small grey eyes piercing Oliver from where he fiddled behind a machine. "Oh no, we need to let her know what a bad boy you are, Mr. Queen."

"What do you want?" Oliver demanded, trying to keep his panic from overtaking his brain. He struggled against the restraints, zip ties he could handle, even handcuffs were manageable, but this guy had him locked up tight.

The man's attention shifted back to his machine and Oliver watched with increasing horror as he unspooled what looked like homemade jumper cables. "To make you good, to make you true, to end all of the broken, broken hearted girls. And you have broken lots of hearts, my boy, so many."

The Snatcher shuffled to where Felicity sat and some tiny still rational part of Oliver's mind stopped him just short of dislocating his own shoulder as he struggled to get free. "Don't touch her!"

The Snatcher gave Oliver a harsh frown. "Oh I won't. I'd never touch another man's girl…not like you…not like all of the bad, bad men." But the words fell far short of reassuring Oliver as the Snatcher clamped each connector to the back of Felicity's metal chair. Then he leaned his head to the side a bit staring down at her. "Still sleepy this one…perhaps just a tiny jolt, a little sting to wake her up."

With horrible clarity Oliver realized what the cables were, why the chair she was in was metal. "No! Don't you…" his voice broke, and he watched helplessly as the man turned to his machine and reached for one of the buttons on its control panel. "Let me try …please." He didn't care that an edge of pleading had crept into his voice.

The Snatcher folded his arms and looked at Oliver as if considering. "You do seem to actually care…better than the last one. Your pretty girl might even last five minutes before I have to stop her broken heart."

Oliver closed his eyes and tried to calm his breathing, he felt scraped raw, more vulnerable than he'd felt since returning home. Swallowing he turned his attention back to Felicity, and in a loud, firm voice said. "Felicity, love, I need you to wake up." He could pretend the endearment was for the benefit of their captor, but even as the thought flickered through his mind, he knew it wasn't true. "Felicity, please, for me."

He let out a small relieved sigh when her head inched up a fraction. In a small, tired voice she said, "Oliver?"

"Yeah, it's me." He took sharp, hard breaths trying to settle his own racing heart. "Felicity I need you to come back to me."

The panic he couldn't hide in his voice must have finally broken through her drug induced haze and her head snapped up. She strained against her bindings, as she let out a startled, "Oliver!"

"Very nice," the Snatcher interrupted sounding pleased. "She loves the sound of your voice." Then he sighed, "But once I show her your lies, that will change."

Oliver saw understanding and terror dawn in her eyes. Then, in a move he would remember, and be utterly proud of for the rest of his life he watched her square her shoulders and attempt to give him smile. "Well, I guess our plan to find the Sweetheart Snatcher worked."

He gave a sharp, startled bark of laughter that turned into almost a sob as he looked at her small scared smile. "Felicity, I'm so sorry…I should never…"

"It's okay," she said softly, holding his gaze. "No matter what."

"That's how it always starts," the sickly sweet voice of The Snatcher interrupted. "Lots of sweet words and long glances, but all the boys lie, and all the girls get broken. I just hurry things along a bit."

The Snatcher grabbed another handful of cables and moved toward Oliver. "We'll just plug him in, and see how long it takes him to prove what he really is."

"Leave him alone," Felicity snapped.

The man drew nearer to Oliver. It took every ounce of resolve he had left not to flinch away when the man reached out and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt. For the briefest second he was even tempted to sink his teeth into the man's arm, but he knew that wouldn't help. His only chance now was to cooperate and hope that Digg and Roy could find them before it was too late.

The Snatcher roughly slapped two sensors onto the exposed skin of Oliver's chest before turning back to his machine. Of course Oliver had been hooked to a polygraph before, but this felt different, and from their research they knew the creepshow had a background in electrical engineering and psychiatry. He knew he couldn't risk trying to fool this machine, not if he could help it.

The Snatcher stepped back to his machine, and with obvious glee pointed to a series of lights on the machine. Turning to Felicity he said, "It's very simple. These stay green and we know he is, for once, telling you the truth. They turn red…." he sighed and looked at Felicity with empathy that was terrifying in its twisted sincerity, "and I will push my button…and the little sparks will start to break your heart."

Oliver watched Felicity's teeth clench and she shook her head. "There's no way it's that simple. You're telling me those five couples you killed were all because the men lied? I refuse to believe they'd all put their secrets above the lives of the women they cared about."

The Snatcher let out a little laugh and turned back to Oliver. "I do see why you like her," he said. "She's so very smart. Yes, my dear, they told the truth, but in that truth they all quickly revealed how very bad they were. That will also be cause to break your heart."

Oliver understood then. If the man perceived him to be anything less than a perfectly devoted boyfriend, Felicity was going to die. The problem was that for everything he felt for the remarkable woman across the table from him, he wasn't her boyfriend, and he certainly didn't come close to being anyone she deserved. Reaching back for his training about polygraphs he forced his breath steady, tried to blank his mind, settle his heartbeat. He had to try.

With his finger hovering easily over the buttons of his machine The Snatcher said. "So, to be fair I'll start with an easy one. Just to calibrate things. Do you think she's pretty, Mr. Queen?"

A fraction of true calm slid over him. That was an easy one, he allowed himself to stare straight into her eyes as he said. "Of course, she's beautiful."

Felicity blinked and the sad smile got a little stronger. "Thank you," she mouthed.

He had to close his eyes at that, and The Snatcher's voice crawled inside his mind again. "The most beautiful woman you've ever seen?"

There was a snide note in the man's tone, mixed with excitement. Oliver could tell he was expecting the answer to be a lie. So he reached back into his memory, picturing the lightness he'd felt, the surprising flicker of joy it had given him that first day in her office, when she'd given that little head tilt that told him she knew he was full of crap. And he hadn't been able to stay away since.

"Yes, she is."

He heard Felicity move slightly and his eyes snapped open. He could see she'd braced herself for a shock, eyes squeezed tight, and he felt a stab of sorrow pierce through him.

"Well, I admit that's a more promising start than most," The Snatcher said.

Felicity's eyes snapped open and she stared at him, obviously puzzled. He gave her a tiny shrug, hoping that the look in his eyes, even more than the damned machine, would tell her it was the truth.

The Snatcher sighed. "Do you love her?"

Another easy question, he'd loved her as a friend and partner from early on, probably from the moment she'd locked him in his own foundry to save a little boy's father. "Yes."

The Snatcher gave a low laugh and turned back to Felicity. "You'd think hearing that would make it all better…but it will only break your heart more when you find out how little that love means." Before Felicity could even respond he whirled back at Oliver. "Have you cheated on her?"

Well, they weren't actually together, so that was a fairly easy question as well. "No."

The Snatcher shot a puzzled look to his machine, walked toward it and fiddled with the dials. "You haven't touched another woman since you started to care for her?"

Damn.

Then his brain dug up a response. He couldn't help the urge to smile in spite of their horrible situation. "Not since I told her I loved her, no."

Felicity's eyes lit in appreciation of his word choice. Whatever their ups and downs had been, he'd steered clear of every woman but her since the day they'd take down Slade.

"Hmm…" The Snatcher said. "Obviously, you're not quite the bad bad boy the papers make you out to be."

Oliver felt a flash of anger and he shot the man a dark look. "Sorry to disappoint you," he snarled.

The look The Snatcher sent him in response was chilling. "Oh, I'll find something, don't worry on that." His head tilted to the side, and the smile he gave was smug. "Have you ever lied to her?"

He shook his head, "I don't like hiding things from her." He was walking a fine line with this response, he knew it, and he heard Felicity swallow hard. It took all his willpower not to glance at the lights on the machine.

Whether it was his training or true enough to work, Oliver didn't know, but he let out a relieved sigh when The Snatcher banged on the machine in frustration. "It has to be broken. It must be broken."

"He's telling the truth!" Felicity spat. "There's nothing wrong with your machine, except that the wiring looks like it came from 1985."

"Felicity," Oliver said warningly, as The Snatcher's arm moved toward one of the buttons. "Don't!" he shouted.

There was nothing he could do as he watched the man's finger descend, there was a popping sound and Oliver watched in horror as Felicity's body arched, a cry of pain coming out of her lips. When she slumped back in the chair, Oliver's eyes scrambled over her features trying to tell if she was still with him. Then she let out a shuddering breath, stiffened suddenly, and her eyes flickered open. Her eyes met his and he knew he should try to mask the panic he felt, but he couldn't manage it. "Still here," she said in a harsh whisper.

"Be a good girl," The Snatcher said, shaking a finger at her. "A nice girl."

Oliver saw anger in her eyes but she clenched her teeth and kept quiet. Vow or no vow, he wanted to end this guy.

"Now another question for the gentleman," The Snatcher said, smiling gleefully. "You're surprisingly faithful at the moment but how long do you plan for that to last? For instance, if I asked you to marry her – here and now – would you be willing to do it?"

Oliver returned the man's cold smile. The Snatcher wasn't as clever as he thought. The psycho had no idea who he had hooked up to his little love and death machine – no idea of the friendship and faith and loyalty he was dealing with. Yes, Oliver might have a thousand nightmares, a million worries, about what a real relationship between them might mean, but there was almost nothing that terrified him more than losing her. "You have a minister handy?"

The Snatcher dived forward, frustrated rage plastered across his pale, scrunched face. He punched Oliver hard across the jaw. "Answer the question!"

The force of the chair smashing into the back of his skull made his head swim, but he instantly raised his eyes to The Snatcher's refusing to let the pain show. "In case I wasn't clear," Oliver growled. "The answer is yes."

He heard Felicity's exclamation of surprise, but before he could look at her there was a wonderfully familiar _thwick-thwick _sound through the air, and two red arrows entered his field of vision. One caught the Snatcher in the shoulder, and the other was an obvious, but failed, attempt to split the cable connecting Felicity to the machine. It was nice to know he was still the best.__

Within seconds Roy had pummeled the Snatcher unconscious, and Digg had entered the room. He looked up at Roy. "There were guards at the back." 

"On it," Roy said, disappearing again. He reached down and tossed what Oliver hoped were the keys to his restraints to Digg. 

Digg grabbed the keys and started toward him. "Felicity first," he said sharply. 

The overwhelming relief he felt as Digg untied Felicity and pulled her away from the chair made him oddly breathless for a moment. Felicity glared at the machine. "Good thing that wasn't working," she said. Then she looked up at him, "Or did you fool it somehow?" 

Oliver glanced at her in surprise as Digg undid the makeshift manacles that had locked down his ankles and wrists. "I don't think…" he had to stop mid-sentence, still not quite able to get air into his lungs properly. He reached to pull the sensors from his skin, but then paused, and looked at Felicity. Gaze locking with hers he said, "I am not the Arrow." 

The lights on the machine lit red and a huge arc of electricity jolted the chair, making it rattle against the floor. Felicity let out a startled yelp, scrambling back from it and then stared at him, eyes wide. 

"You were telling the truth," she said. 

"Apparently," Oliver said, finally able to force some calm into his voice. He yanked the leads from his skin and stepped around the table. 

Digg rolled his eyes. "Good thing he was more concerned with questioning your love life than any of your more exciting secrets." 

"Trust me, Digg," Felicity said, her eyes not leaving Oliver's face. "This was exciting enough." 

And Oliver was pretty sure she wasn't talking about almost being electrocuted. 


	20. Happy Thanksgiving, Felicity Smoak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#21 – Three Reasons. First of all, thanks for reading this collection and for all of the kind thoughts about it. It's weird that I'll most likely be saying goodbye to both of my drabble collections this week. My first idea for this was a big, horrible, angst fest and I just couldn't end on that note, so instead you get a little angst mixed with a healthy dose of fall holiday cheer. And of course, I went over an hour again, couldn't be helped.

Felicity's doorbell rang – exactly on time. She frowned. Since Diggle had officially become a family man no one on "Team Arrow" was ever on time for anything that didn't actually involve thugs and super-villains. Pulling off the oven mitts she'd been wearing to remove a batch of homemade (ok, so out of the freezer section, but close enough) rolls from the oven she turned and went to answer the door.

Pulling it open she froze. Oliver stood there, bottle of wine in one hand and a paper wrapped bouquet of flowers in the other, giving her the little fidgety head tilt that signified he was nervous. "Am I early?"

She blinked quickly. She had invited the whole gang after all, she just hadn't quite believed that Oliver would actually come. "No!" she said quickly. "No, of course not. You're on time. Which for you is sort of like being early…not that you don't have reasons for being late." She took a deep breath and repeated. "Anyhow…very punctual today."

He gave her a tiny little smile. "That's no good for my reputation." He stuck his hands out. "These are for you."

Felicity took the wine and the flowers, shaking her head. The bouquet was a collection of mums in fall colors with sprigs of dried berries – pretty, but clearly not romantic, and she had to sweep that thought out of her head. "I told you – you didn't need to bring anything."

Giving a little shrug he said, "You go to someone's house for Thanksgiving, you take something. My mother did manage to teach me a few manners." A shadow passed over his face then and Felicity remembered why Oliver was probably standing at her door. With Thea gone he had nowhere else to be for Thanksgiving.

Standing back she tilted her head toward the living room. "It's very thoughtful. Come in."

He stepped inside her apartment, and Felicity saw it suddenly through his eyes. A long borrowed table running down the length of the living room because her dining room was far too small, a bright yellow tablecloth she'd bought on clearance at Target, and her mismatched white dishes that she thought were cute but…

Suddenly uneasy she said. "I'm sure it doesn't compare to what you're used to, but…"

To her surprise he reached out and put a hand on her arm. He rarely touched her these days. "It looks like you – which is never a bad thing."

She couldn't help but look at him in that moment. There was a warmth and a gratitude in his face that made her go wobbly for a moment. "Oliver…I know that we…"

The doorbell rang again and Felicity jumped. Oliver dropped his hand, and shoved it quickly in his pocket, taking two steps back from her. When she looked at his face a pleasant mask had replaced the glimpse she'd see earlier. "I'll get it," he offered easily. Nodding at the flowers he said, "Why don't you get those in some water."

Felicity couldn't help but watch as Oliver went to open the door. Oliver answering her door on Thanksgiving. She got a sudden image of the exact same action in a much different set of circumstances – where this was their home…their Thanksgiving. Her eyes were wet before she could cut her imagination off and Roy gave her a funny look as he came in with Sin in tow.

"You okay?" he asked, handing her a can of cranberry sauce. Apparently Roy's mother had stuck in some manners as well, whoever she was.

Felicity nodded. "I cut onions earlier, residual effects."

"Uh-huh," He nodded, but the look he shot over his shoulder at Oliver made it clear that he had an idea of what had really caused those tears. However, before he could say anything else they were distracted by the arrival of Digg and Lyla with their ridiculously adorable baby.

For the next hour, Felicity successfully pushed away the bittersweet thoughts Oliver's "early" arrival had generated. For the first time in her entire life, she had an apartment bursting with people she loved and good food she had somehow managed not to screw up. This was what Thanksgiving was supposed to be about.

Then as they passed around pies that had come from the best bakery Felicity could find in Starling, Oliver cleared his throat. "Umm…can I uh make a suggestion?"

The uncertainty in his voice brought everyone to a halt. They were used to Oliver giving orders, not making suggestions. She saw Roy and Diggle glance her direction, clearly waiting for her to answer.

"Of course, sure," she said.

He cleared his throat and stared at his plate. "In my family…" he paused and Felicity felt tears threaten again as she saw his jaw tighten. "In my family we had this tradition. At the end of Thanksgiving dinner we all went around and told each other three things we were thankful for." He glanced up then and his eyes swept around the table. It had been a hard couple of months, with things going from great to extremely difficult in so little time they all had emotional whiplash. "I don't know about you, but I could use the reminder right now."

"It's a good idea, boss," Digg said. Felicity gave a tiny smile at Digg's use of "boss." He no longer actually worked for Oliver of course, but it was a gentle reminder that they still considered him the leader of this crazy little team of theirs. "Should I go first?"

Oliver nodded quickly, flashing Digg a grateful smile. "If it's okay with Felicity."

"Yes, sure, of course," she said quickly, gratified by Oliver's deference to her house and her invitation.

Digg looked at Lyla and their lovely little daughter and Felicity knew what John Diggle's first thing would be before he even said it, "I'm grateful for my family," he said. Then he looked at each one of them, ending with her, and Felicity felt her eyes get damp for an entirely different reason. "All of it. In all its forms." Then he grinned, "And the invention of the disposable diaper and, he paused, obviously thinking. "And any night when I get more than two hours of sleep."

They all laughed. Lyla and Sin's contributions were less effusive and Felicity knew they didn't feel quite as comfortable voicing their feelings in this crowd. Still Felicity had to smile when Sin ended with, "And for Ambercrombie, even though he's a pain in the ass."

Roy took his turn, and Felicity tears threaten again when after casually starting with "Pie and clean socks," he looked at Oliver and said, "For the Arrow, who keeps saving my life."

She realized that it was her turn, and suddenly wished she'd insisted on going first. "Who doesn't love pie," she said as her brain and mouth tried to deal with her scrambled emotions. "Um…and like Digg said, family." Wiping away the first tear that had managed to escape, she let herself look around at each person at the table, though she skimmed quickly over Oliver's piercing blue-eyed gaze. "I've never had very much of that in my life, and to have you all here is completely amazing, so thank you for that."

Then she was stuck and there was a long, slightly charged moment of silence before she finally decided to be honest. Looking up she met Oliver's gaze. "And like Roy I'm thankful for heroes, especially the ones that sacrifice so much of what they want so they can help others."

She watched Oliver's expression break then, and she realized she wasn't the only one fighting tears. It was such a difficult thing to see, that she almost regretted what she'd said. Then he cleared his throat and flashed her a small but very genuine smile. "So I guess it's my turn," he said.

He paused for a minute and when he spoke again his voice was steadier. Felicity had a feeling Oliver had prepared what he wanted to say and she found herself holding her breath.

"I'm grateful we've all made it through the last few months to be here together," he said. Everyone at the table nodded solemnly. With what they did, that was always going to be something to be extremely grateful for.

"And I'm grateful for food and heat and clean water… because I didn't always have that," he said quickly. His eyes got a faraway look for a moment, and Felicity had flashes of the cold jungle of Lian Yu in her own mind.

Then he shook his head, and when he looked up, directly at her, she felt for a few seconds like they were the only two people in the room. "And I'm grateful for Felicity." For a moment he looked like he was going to say something else, but then he looked back down at his plate. "Yeah, for Felicity."

There was a small heavy silence in the room, and finally Roy muttered. "Aren't we all."

Everyone laughed, and nodded, and for a few seconds Felicity didn't bother to stop the tears that fell. Yes, things were hard, and complicated, but there was no doubt in her mind that she had far more than three things to be grateful for.


	21. Silver, Bells, and Bullets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At some Christmas in the near future, Team Arrow has a chat about holidays that were both their best and their worst. But this one…well, it might not actually fall into that category after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this went a smidge over an hour…and it’s a total gush semi-futurefic thing that I don’t normally write, but that’s where it went, and, well, Christmas is supposed to be warm and fluffy right?

It was 9 o’clock on Christmas night, but in the Arrowcave it felt like anything but a holiday. They’d spent the last three days fighting a terrorist who had threatened to celebrate the season by gassing the city. They were all banged up and worn out. Oliver, as usual, had gotten the worst of it - a bullet graze in his forearm and a bruise the size of Colorado where only the Kevlar in his suit had protected him from a wound that would have killed him…again. 

As Felicity finished putting a huge bandage across the wound on Oliver’s arm and handed him an ice pack for his chest Roy cleared his throat. “You guys mind if I head out? Sin actually invited me to a party, and I wouldn’t mind trying to catch the end of it.”

Oliver grunted as he sat up straight. “Sounds good. Merry Christmas Roy.” 

Roy nodded, and gave a genuine smile. “Yeah, man. You too.” 

Felicity watched Roy leave then turned back to John and Oliver who both seemed overly quiet and pensive. They’d all agreed not to exchange gifts, instead pooling a solid chunk of funds to donate anonymously to a struggling teen shelter in the Glades. It had seemed like the right move at the time, but now Felicity kind of regretted agreeing to the “no present” rule. It would have been nice to have some brightly wrapped packages to give her boys. She’d meant to do something, bake or string some lights up in the lair, but there’d just never been any time. 

“Don’t you have a little girl waiting for you at home?” Oliver asked Digg, his voice tired, but with a hint of a smile. 

Digg shook his head sadly. “Nah, the minute I heard about the gas threat I sent her and Lyla packing to her parents.” 

“I’m sorry,” Felicity said, unable to keep the sadness out of her voice. The thought that Diggle hadn’t been able to be with little Sara on Christmas was almost as depressing as Oliver getting shot on Christmas.

Digg shrugged. “Couldn’t be helped, besides, I doubt this is how you two planned to spend today.” 

Oliver and Felicity exchanged a look. There had been some hope of plans, quiet words about dinner, or walking to see the lights in the park, but even before they’d known about the latest threat they had been more dreams than plans. It was just the nature of their life. 

“Believe it or not,” Felicity said. “I’ve had a lot of holidays like this, even before you guys came along. Sort of best/worst holidays.”

Oliver gave her a puzzled look. “What do you mean?”

She smiled and reached out so their fingers just brushed where his hand curled tightly over the edge of the medical table. They usually did their best to keep their “gush” as Roy called it out of the lair. “Well, this could be a worst Christmas, you getting shot and Digg missing his family, but at least we’re all here.” She didn’t add that there had been one Christmas she wouldn’t talk about even now. The one where she’d thought Oliver was gone. “But…you’re also alive because of a fantastic gift Cisco gave you, and we saved the holiday for thousands of people. See, worst and best.” 

Oliver’s tired smile was a gift. “And you’ve had lots of these?”

“Yes.” She said firmly. “You know my silver menorah?”

He nodded. It was the one holiday decoration she’d made time for and he’d commented on how beautiful it was. 

“It belonged to my grandmother. When I was six, she died on the second night of Hanukah, but my father made a point to finish lighting the candles with me.” She choked a little on the tears she was holding back. “By the next Hanukah it was about all I had left of both of them, but it still reminds me of her, and that at least once he cared about me enough to try and make things better.” 

She was grateful when Oliver’s hand moved, wrapping his fingers in hers. 

To her surprise John cleared his throat. “I have one like that too, actually.”

Felicity nodded at him, indicating that he should go on. 

He tilted his head to the side, folded his arms and moved to sit on the edge of the table he was in front of. “The first time I came back from Afghanistan it was the middle of November, and nothing, I mean nothing in the world felt right by the time Christmas came around. I was still ducking at loud noises and being angry at the whole damn world, including Lyla. I was at a party at Andy and Carly’s and it just got so loud I couldn’t take it anymore, so I went for a walk…”

He paused then, and Felicity had a feeling he was deciding how much to tell them. Finally, he continued, his voice deceptively even, as if hiding much deeper pain beneath. “On that walk, I managed to convince myself that it was never going to get better, that it might even be easier if I just gave up, permanently. Then just as I walked in front of that big church on Grant Street the bells started chiming out Silent Night. I remember laughing out loud - it felt like a sign or something.” 

Felicity couldn’t help it. She walked across the room and gave him a hug. “Thank goodness for bells,” she said. 

He patted her back. “Yeah, no kidding. Wouldn’t have wanted to miss out on all this fun.” 

Just as she pulled away, his phone rang. He looked at it, smiling at Lyla’s picture. “I’m going to take this, and head out. You guys mind?”

“Saved by the bell again,” Oliver said grinning. “Merry Christmas, John.” 

Digg answered the phone and walked out of the lair, his voice noticeably lighter and happier as he talked to his wife. 

When the door shut behind him, Felicity turned, walking back to stand in front of Oliver. “So how about you?”

“Me?” he said, grimacing as he pushed up off the table. She put her arm around him and helped him as he limped over to where his shirt and jacket sat. 

“Do you have any best/worst Christmases. You know, besides this one?” . 

“Yeah,” he said. “That whole Mirakuru/seeing ghosts thing was a bit of a mess.” He reached for his shirt and she helped him pull it down over his head, careful to keep from touching his wounds. Then he reached for his jacket. “But I have argue with part of your theory.”

“You do?” she said, laughing a bit.   
He nodded, and when he looked up there was something solemn in his gaze. “I’m not sure this Christmas is going to qualify … I think it might fall firmly in the best category.” 

Unable to resist she leaned forward and kissed him quickly. “Oliver, you got shot, and I spent Christmas alone in the Foundry bossing around SCPD teams and praying we wouldn’t all end up dead.” 

“True,” he said. She realized he’d pulled something from the pocket of his jacket, but his hand was closed around it so that she couldn’t quite see. “But Christmas isn’t over yet. And I might have broken the no present rule.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “I’m not sure anything is going to make up for the fact that I can’t hug you right now.” 

The smile that broke across his face stopped her breath. “I’m hoping you’re wrong.” Looking down he opened his hand and Felicity saw a small black velvet box….a ring box. He handed it to her and said, “I’ve had big, romantic plans three times now, but something always gets in the way, and I don’t want to wait anymore.” 

She took the box from his outstretched hand with shaking fingers, flipping it open to reveal a perfect diamond solitaire. “Oliver?” she said, not believing what was happening. 

He put his hand on her face, his skin warm and perfect against her cold cheek. She watched him swallow hard. “Marry me?” 

She didn’t even think, the word came out as a pure, startled, automatic delight. “Yes!” 

And when he leaned down to kiss her; she realized he’d been right. This holiday was definitely going to fall into the “best” category.


	22. Not the Pizza Guy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone interrupts an intense conversation between Felicity and Ray Palmer…but it isn't who they expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#24 – "So…he's not the pizza guy?"  
> So a prompt about a pizza guy finally has me able to write the angsty/smushy reunion scene I've wanted to write since the mid-season finale? I'm so weird.

"Thanks for giving me a ride home from the hospital," Felicity said to Ray, sinking down on her couch. She had changed out of her bloodied and torn dress and into pajamas, while he sat, still in a fairly pristine dress shirt and slacks.

"You're welcome." He gave her a smile that strove for flippant but didn't quite make it. "I ordered the pizza, double sausage and extra mushroom, hope you don't mind."

"Sounds good," she said. She pulled a pillow in her lap and rested her chin on her hands.

The smile faded and he gave her a serious look. "It will be nice to see you eat something for a change."

She was half tempted to protest, but he wasn't the only person who'd made that observation. It wasn't like she was trying to starve herself or anything, she wasn't that desperately self-destructive yet, it was just that food, in the wake of her grief, was one of the many things that held little interest for her anymore.

"It gets better, you know," he said, gently.

"Better?" she asked.

He tilted toward her on the couch, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder. "Losing someone you've built your world around."

Tears stung her eyes. She would always get to a point where she thought she'd finally cried herself dry, and then be proven wrong. "How did you know?"

He tilted his head. "I don't know everything, not exactly. But Oliver Queen is mysteriously missing, and you're falling apart. It doesn't take a genius, and I am one, you know?"

That made her smile a little. "Yes, I know."

He inched a bit closer to her, and part of her hated it, wanted to run, wanted to lash out. But the problem was that Ray Palmer was a really decent man, and it had been a truly terrible day, and she just wanted to feel something besides the hollow scraping pain that had been haunting her for weeks. So she didn't move, didn't protest.

"Do you know one thing that's helped me?" he asked.

"What's that?" she asked.

He smiled again, and this time it was real, and she had to admit she liked that smile. "You."

The hand on her shoulder came up to cup her face, and Felicity had to ruthlessly push away another moment, another man. When he spoke his voice was careful, gentle, and warm, "And I'd like to help you, if you'll let me."

There was a war going on in Felicity's head. She didn't love Ray, he wasn't the one who echoed through her dreams every night, wasn't the one she'd give anything for one more minute with. And yet….

The doorbell rang and they jumped apart. Felicity's immediate feeling was of relief. What had she almost done? She scooted as far back from him as the couch allowed. "The pizza guy is fast tonight."

Ray gave her a sad smile, one that let her know her face clearly showed her emotions. "Yeah. I'll get it."

He moved to the door and Felicity looked away, staring into space, her brain fuzzy both with exhaustion and the pain killers the emergency room had given her earlier for the cut on her arm. That was why Ray's exclamation didn't quite register at first.

"What?" she said frowning up at him.

He backed away from the door. "Uh…it's not the pizza guy."

Something in Ray's voice set off alarms in her tired brain and she climbed to her feet. Standing in her doorway was the most impossible and perfect sight she could have imagined.

His dark blonde hair was ragged, his beard fuller, and there was a hollowness to his face that made him look like he'd aged a couple of years. Only those changes, changes she wouldn't have expected or planned, made her think she wasn't hallucinating. "Oliver?" she whispered.

The slightest ghost of a smile appeared on his face, and then he glanced at Ray. The smile disappeared and in a low, unsteady voice he said. "Maybe I shouldn't…"

He didn't finish the sentence as she plowed into him, wrapping her arms around him and holding him tighter than she'd ever held anyone. After the briefest hesitation he returned the hug and his arms around her were the first thing that had felt right in an eternity. "Oliver," she whispered again. "Oliver."

She heard Ray Palmer clear his throat awkwardly behind them. "I'm just… going to go."

Oliver pulled back from her and looked up at Ray, clearly uncertain again. He glanced down at Felicity's pajamas. "I didn't…" he stumbled over the two words, his voice rough, sounding like it hadn't been used.

Ray held up his hands. "I just gave her a ride home," Felicity could see the disappointment written in his features even as his easy smile slid back into place. "You're definitely who she wants to see." Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he slid past them, heading down her stairs.

Tomorrow she would find Ray, apologize, and thank him for being kind to her when she'd desperately needed it. But for now there was only one thing she could think about.

"How are you here?" she said, taking Oliver's face in her hands. "Merlyn said you were dead."

"I was," he said, lowering his forehead to hers. "I was."

Without any forethought she pushed up on her toes, her mouth crashing into his. This time he didn't stiffen or pull away, but returned the kiss with equal desperation. When she pulled back to breathe she said the three words she'd been thinking over and over again since he'd walked away from her. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

Oliver put his hand on her cheek, and this time it felt exactly right. "About what?" he asked, his tired blue eyes all concern and sincerity. That was the look she'd dreamed about and longed for.

"For not saying it back," she said, feeling tears choke her.

For a moment he looked confused then realization dawned and a hint of a smile returned to his face. "So say it now."

Second chances did exist. Miracles were real.

"I love you Oliver Queen."


	23. A Case of Mistaken Identity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new street drug takes its toll on one of the members of Team Arrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#25 A Case of Mistaken Identity…went over an hour. But I don't think you'll mind.

A Case of Mistaken Identity

"So this is it?" Oliver asked as Diggle slid a crate onto the table. He hadn't been pleased when it had been Diggle, once again, who had to go into a drug buy alone, but Roy was mending from a broken ankle, and in spite of his fall from financial grace, he was still a little too recognizable.

Diggle nodded. "You, my friend, are now the proud owner of a case of the hottest new street drug in Starling City." He wedged the top off the box to reveal several small vials of what looked like lavender tinted perfume.

"See, it's a color again," Felicity said, walking over toward them, her voice sounding tired. "Why is it always a color?"

"Meet MSID4, known on the streets as Mistaken Identity," Digg said holding up one of the vials and handing it to Felicity. "Makes people's behavior so screwy their own mothers wouldn't recognize them."

Oliver looked down at the crate, frowning. "This much drug should have cost a lot more than $5000, are we sure we didn't get played?"

"Well," Felicity said, squinting at the solution, "we've suspected that the chaos our little purple friend here is causing might be part of distraction. Maybe they want to encourage wide distribution. There's only one way to find out." She took the lid off the vial.

"Don't!" Oliver said, stepping toward her with his hand outstretched.

She lowered the bottle and gave him a scolding look. "Calm down, I'm not going to spray it. I'm going to put the solution through some tests and see what we have."

Oliver shook his head, annoyed with himself. "Right. Sorry."

"In fact," Felicity said, moving toward their lab equipment. "I'm going to have to mask and glove up just to test this. Why don't you guys head out, just to be safe, and I'll call you if I find anything interesting."

"We shouldn't leave you alone with this stuff," Oliver protested. She'd actually been in the lair longer than he had, working hard to get the info they needed to set up the buy.

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Hey, worry-wart, how about I promise to call you in an hour one way or another, and if I don't you can come back and check on me. Okay?"

"Fine," he said reluctantly. "It wouldn't hurt for Thea to actually see me in the apartment once and a while."

"Good," Felicity said, already turning to the equipment. When the two men didn't immediately move she looked up again. "Now scoot."

Digg grinned at Oliver. "Really knows how to make you feel wanted doesn't she?"

Oliver smiled back but didn't comment. He wasn't sure there was a safe way to answer that question.

____________________________________________

 

The beeping of his phone alarm woke Oliver out of a surprisingly deep sleep. He rolled over in the pitch black of his room, trying to remember what the alarm was about. It took only seconds for him to realize what had happened. He had set an alarm for an hour and fifteen minutes, just in case Felicity didn't call.

With a sinking feeling he was upright in an instant, grabbing his keys with one hand while he hit the button that would dial Felicity's phone. There was no answer – he gave up on the fourth try, focusing on pushing his six minute record for getting his bike from the loft to the foundry. He braced himself, expecting the worst as he carefully pushed open the door at the top of the stairs.

It was quiet, and he couldn't see any obvious damage to the foundry. At first he couldn't see Felicity either. He walked down the stairs, the hairs on his neck standing on end until he spotted her. She sat in one of the darker corners, her head lowered to her curled up knees. She still had the bright blue latex gloves on, with the mask pulled off, hanging loose around her neck.

"Felicity?" he said, nerves making his voice unsteady as he approached her.

Her head jerked up and he could see that her eyes were puffy with tears. "I don't want to do this anymore," she said. Her voice held more pain and more fatigue than he'd ever heard.

Moving quickly toward her, he hunched down beside her. "What happened?" he asked.

"Somebody took the new designer nature of that miracle cancer drug and turned it into a way to hurt people," she said, her voice catching on a sob. "Why would anyone do that? What kind of world do we live in?"

Okay, Oliver thought, confused - that was terrible, but it didn't quite explain the break down. He'd seen Felicity manage much worse than this. Clearly something else was going on. He'd been avoiding touching her lately but before he could even think about it he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. "You need some rest," he said. "We'll catch whoever is doing this and…"

She pushed so suddenly to her feet that she almost knocked him over and her voice rose to a hysterical pitch. "And then another bad guy will come along, and then another, until we're all dead and broken and …." Her voice cut off into a series of deep panicky breaths and fresh tears poured down her face.

That was it. He just couldn't freaking stand it anymore. Stepping forward he pulled her into his arms running a hand slowly back and forth over her back. "That's not going to happen to you," he whispered into her hair. "I won't let it."

She fisted her hands into the back of his shirt, and continued to cry. He swallowed hard feeling tears threaten in his own eyes. He wondered what had really caused this breakdown and then he saw something on the foundry floor and he froze – a small, broken glass vial.

With one arm still around Felicity he reached for his phone and called Diggle's number, grateful when his friend answered immediately. "What's up?"

"I'm with Felicity at the foundry," he said quickly. "There's a broken vial of Mistaken Identity on the floor and it's clear she's been dosed, and for all I know so have I."

"She okay?" Digg said.

Oliver, looked down at where Felicity's face was buried in his shirt and his jaw clenched as he realized she was murmuring, "Dead…bleeding…broken," over and over again.

He tightened his grip on her. "No, she's really not. How long do the effects last?"

"Two or three hours," Diggle said. "And like we've seen it tends to get worse before it gets better."

Oliver swore under his breath.

"How long have you been down there?" Diggle asked.

"I don't know, three minutes?" Oliver said.

"It hits pretty quick," Diggle said. "And you sound like you."

"Good to know," Oliver said. Felicity was crying again, loud enough that he knew Digg had to be able to hear it on his end of the phone. People had committed suicide on this drug, there was no way he could risk leaving or letting anyone come in. "I have to stay with her. I'll text you every ten minutes. If I don't text - call in Haz-Mat and a SWAT team."

"There's no way we'll be able to hide that," Digg said.

"If I'm dosed we can't risk anything else," Oliver said solemnly. "I could hurt her or take down half the city before you got me under control."

"Ten minutes," Digg confirmed, with a long sigh.

Oliver couldn't say anything else. The possibilities were just too grim. "Talk to you then."

He hit the disconnect button on his phone. Stuffing it in his pocket he made a decision. He maneuvered Felicity toward the medical supplies, bracing her against himself with one hand as he found the syringe he needed.

It was a simple sedative, and he prayed it wouldn't negatively react with what was already in her system. Before he could think too much about it, he stuck the needle into the flesh of her upper arm and pushed down the plunger.

"See," she said, trying to push away. "Everything always hurts."

He swallowed hard, and held tight. "I'm sorry."

The fight went out of her quickly, and she slumped against him again. Reaching down he scooped her up into his arms, and walked across to her chair, settling them both into it. He adjusted until he could cradle the back of her head with one of his hands. "It will be okay," he whispered into her hair. "I promise."

"You should just let me die," she sobbed out. "We're all going to die."

He'd never truly appreciated Felicity's inherent toughness and sunniness until this moment. For whatever the name of this drug was, he was sure that all of the feelings and behaviors they'd seen people exhibit had come from a very real place inside of them – just pushed to extremes and free from the usual restraints. He was pretty sure what he was seeing was all of her fears and sorrows stripped bare. It gave him an idea, maybe platitudes weren't the way to go, maybe, if he was still talking to some version of the woman he knew truth would work better.

"Maybe we will," he said, threading his hand into her hair. "But even if we do, we've helped so many people; you've helped so many people. It would still be okay."

He felt a surge of relief as the crying settled a little. That felt like a good sign, so he continued. "And no matter how much darkness and pain there is, you are always going to be the light and the love at the middle of all of us, Felicity."

She didn't reply, but the sobs were replaced with small hiccupping breaths. He had a feeling the sedative was kicking in, and he felt an almost overwhelming surge of relief as the breaths got slower and slower, falling into what sounded like the normal healthy rhythm of sleep.

For the next three hours the pattern was the same - occasionally adjust his arms so they didn't go numb and text Diggle every 10 minutes. At 4:30 am they agreed that the danger was probably over.

At 10:30 am, Felicity finally woke up for the first time. Oliver had moved her to the narrow bed just before Diggle had arrived, but hadn't been able to bring himself to get more than a foot away from her.

Her blue eyes held shame and nerves as they met his. That was the thing with this drug…it also left you with a perfect memory of what you had done under its influence.

"I'm sorry," was the first thing she said.

"There's no need to be," he said gently, letting his hand cover hers. "Go back to sleep."

"Only if you join me," she said.

He couldn't help the smile that snuck over his face, and he raised his eyebrows.

Her answering smile was small, but it was there. "You know what I mean," she muttered.

"I always do," he said.


	24. Meeting Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Felicity has to deal with two stubborn Queen men.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#26 Oh, Baby! - Special thanks to my very handsome BFF who, in one sentence, helped me get an idea of what to do with this prompt – "Well, doesn't Oliver have a kid?" Once again, we're in slightly fluffy future-fic land, apparently it's my reaction to the uber-angst of the current moment.

Felicity didn't know why she was so nervous. She was meeting a ten-year-old boy for crying out loud, not a crime boss, or a supervillain, or a titan of industry – but one blonde, recently traumatized little boy.

The doorbell rang and she wiped her hands on her jeans. She almost never wore jeans, but a pencil skirt and heels didn't seem like the kind of thing you wore to meet a child. She paused just a moment and took a deep breath, "Oh, baby, here we go."

She put a smile on her face and opened the door to reveal an Oliver who looked almost as uneasy as she felt.

"Hi," he said, he sounded tired.

"Hey," she replied. They didn't kiss. They usually kissed these days, and that alone was enough to make her feel another wave of nerves.

She looked down at the boy standing at Oliver's side. With the exception of his wide brown eyes he was like a miniature version of Oliver, down to the short dark blonde hair that stuck out at odd angles. Even the boy's expression, impassive with a hint of scowl, reminded her of Oliver.

"Felicity," Oliver's voice caught and he had to clear his throat. "Felicity, this is my son, Connor. Connor this is my…" he hesitated and frowned, glancing at her.

That startled a smile out of her. She didn't think he'd ever had to introduce her to someone outside of their little circle before.

"I'm his girlfriend," she blurted. Then she looked at Oliver, "Right?"

Oliver shook his head slightly and closed his eyes. "Right. This is Felicity, my girlfriend."

"Whatever," the little boy said. "He says you have games."

"I do," Felicity said, standing back and letting them in. "I do. And after lunch you can have your pick. What's your preference - sports, crazy cartoon people, or mayhem?"

Connor shot her an irritated look. "I want to fight people and blow stuff up."

Felicity suppressed a smile and gave Oliver a look. "Apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

Oliver let out a breath that sounded like he'd been holding it for a week and the shrugged out of his jacket. He looked down at Connor. "You want to take your coat off?"

Connor didn't respond, but he did unzip his jacket. It looked painfully new, Felicity noticed, and was just a little bit too big. Something Oliver had needed to buy for him, she guessed.

"I'll take those," she said, reaching for both of their coats. She turned and walked quickly down the hall toward the guest bedroom at the back of her house. Tossing the coats on the bed, she spun around, nearly crashing into Oliver, who had apparently followed her without making a sound.

She let out a startled curse. "That whole sneaky thing is not always necessary," she hissed.

He put his hands on her shoulders. "Sorry."

"Why are you following me?" she asked.

He looked down at her and an utterly lost expression fell over his face. "He won't talk to me."

Felicity reached out and put her hand on his side, squeezing gently. "Again with the whole apple/tree thing, huh?"

That managed to get a smile out of him, but it quickly disappeared. "I know he has to be confused and hurting. But he has hardly says two words to me…I don't know how to help him." Oliver looked away from her. "Maybe I should have let them send him to that aunt in Florida."

Felicity reached up and put her hand on his face, drawing his gaze back to hers. "Just be patient with him. He doesn't know us yet, but once he does, he'll see what an amazing man you are."

Oliver closed his eyes. "Okay," he said.

Felicity smiled. "Now, whispering about him in the bedroom probably isn't going to help. Let's get out there."

They turned, but this time as they stepped out into the hallway Oliver took her hand. They found Connor sitting on the couch staring at his shoes.

"So," Felicity said. "How does grilled cheese sound?" she asked. "I don't really cook, but I can manage grilled cheese."

"It's fine," Connor muttered. Then he looked up. "Will you cut the crust off? I hate crust."

Felicity smiled, it seemed like a long sentence coming from this little guy. "Of course, one crustless sandwich coming up."

Oliver squeezed her hand as she turned to go into her kitchen, and when she looked up at him he mouthed a silent, "Thank you."

She nodded, and realized once again why she loved Oliver Queen.


	25. Tell Me What I Do Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FF#27: Is That Blood? - Oliver has a tough time with Felicity patching him up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another take on the "back together scene" and because I actually followed the rules this time, it kind of has an abrupt end. Plus, it's far too quiet to ever actually happen on the show…as much as I might wish.

Felicity walked down the stairs into the Foundry and stopped. These days the place was like Grand Central Station for superheroes, but tonight it was quiet and the sight that greeted her affected her farm more than it should have.

Oliver was alone, leaning against one of the tables. He was in a dress shirt and slacks, his left hand clamped over a spot on his side. For a moment she thought he was just angsting silently in the dark, and then she realized there was a stain spreading from underneath his hand.

"Is that blood?" she exclaimed walking toward him.

His head snapped up. It was obvious he hadn't heard her come in. "It's nothing, just one of my scars acting up."

"Let me see," she said walking toward him and reaching for his shirt.

His hands blocked her movements and he pulled to the side, shrugging out of the shirt on his own as she watched. It was an odd looking injury – an oozing from the deep scar across his chest. The scar Ra's a Ghul had given him.

"Oliver!" she exclaimed.

"I'm fine," he said. "I need to get changed and get back out there. John's been watching Merlyn for the last ten hours."

She ignored him, walking to the cabinet to pull a bandage from the medical supplies. This time he didn't protest as she closed in, prodding gently at the wound as he hissed in pain.

She'd never seen anything like it, the blood, which didn't entirely seem like blood, was thick and dark, but she couldn't seem to find the exact tear in his skin. "Oliver, what…"

"I don't know," he said, his voice full of despair. "I don't understand it either, it just does this sometimes."

With a long sigh, swallowing her own grief at what he'd been through, she carefully taped a thick bandage over the spot. Unable to stop herself she let her fingers linger at the edge of the bandages. Even if he was breaking her heart, it was still good to feel the warmth of his skin under her hands.

"Don't," Oliver said.

She looked up to find him watching her intently; his face only inches from hers. The urge to kiss him was almost overwhelming and it stung. She pulled back hurriedly. "I'm sorry…I'll just go."

She was four steps away before he called her name. "Felicity."

Turning back, she let out a noise of despair. "You can't ask me not to touch you and then say my name like that. It isn't fair."

"You want to talk about fair?" he said. His tone of voice was something she didn't recognize, it was angry, and desperate, and vulnerable in a way she'd never heard from him. "You can't be with Palmer and just keep touching me like that."

She clenched her teeth. "You're hurt, I was just trying to help."

He straightened up with a wince, and his eyes drilled into hers. "It's more than that, it's always been more than that and we both know it."

This was ridiculous. She couldn't believe they were doing this again. "It was your choices that got us here, Oliver. Not mine."

His head dropped. "I know."

For a moment deep silence settled around them, and she found that she was holding her breath. It made her angry with herself, angry that she was still waiting, hoping for the right words from Oliver Queen. Finally he continued. "I know it's my fault…and I wish I could go back, but I can't."

"Let me guess," she said, flinging down the first aid tape she still held in her hand. "You wish you'd never kissed me or told me how you felt. You wish you could keep being the brooding hero with yet another woman on a pedestal."

"No," he said, and the look of hurt on his face surprised her. "That's not it."

She went very still then. "Fine. What would you change?"

There was a broken shred of a smile on his face. "Everything…anything…" he took a deep ragged breath. "Any thing," he emphasized, "that I've done to push us apart."

She was so full of warring emotions; anger, hope, love, irritation that her default setting of flippant comment came forward. "That would be a lot of things."

He shook his head slightly, and brought one hand to his eyes. "Yeah."

"So, I'd suggest you don't do anymore," she said. It came out before she'd even thought about it, and she felt herself stumbling over her words. "You know, of those stupid, broody-guy things."

This time it was him that froze, then slowly his eyes raised to hers, and she had to admit the flicker of hope in them was like a drug. There was no doubt, when push came to shove, it was Oliver who still drew her in every time.

"I might need some help with that," he said, his voice sounding heartbreakingly uncertain.

She smiled a little then. "I am good at helping you," she said. "In fact, it's kind of my thing."

He took a step toward her, and damn it if she wasn't far too aware of the fact he hadn't put his shirt back on. Stopping just an arm's length from her he said. "So tell me what I do now."

She let her hand trail out, putting just the tip of her fingers on his forearm, where it was still folded across against his chest. "You're going to let me go talk to Ray, and you're going to go relieve John from bad-guy babysitting duty, and the next minute we have free you're going to take me to finish that dinner we started."

There was almost the hint of a sob in the ragged breath he let out and she curled her fingers around his arm. "I can do that," he said.


	26. Vegas Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FF#28: That's Vegas, Baby! - Donna Smoak has surprising news for her daughter

"Really, Mom?" Felicity said as she stared at the brochure her mother had just plopped down in front of her. "The Biggest Little Chapel? You can't be serious."

Donna Smoak just shrugged and let out a little squeal of excitement. "Doug and I met in the casino, we're a Las Vegas love story, and that building, well…that's Vegas, baby."

Felicity cast her best pleading expression at Oliver, who was looking particularly impassive behind a pair of sunglasses as he leaned back in a deck chair. However, when she looked closely she could see there was a hint of a smile playing at the edge of his mouth. When her mother had called and insisted their road trip include a stop in Vegas, Felicity hadn't thought anything of it. Leave it to her mother to surprise her daughter with the news that she was getting married while poolside at The Venetian wearing a hot pink string bikini.

"So first of all, you're marrying a man you've only known for two weeks," Felicity said letting out a sigh of exasperation, "and now you're telling me that you're doing it at a venue that allows you to choose from three versions of Reverend Elvis as your officiant?"

Donna shrugged and tossed her blonde hair over one shoulder. "And I want you to be my maid of honor, baby."

"Right," Felicity said. She wondered if her sudden pounding headache was just from her mother's announcement or from the glare of the desert sun off the sparkling pool. There was never this much sun in Starling City; she was going to need to apply sunscreen every ten minutes in a place like this. Of course considering Oliver usually helped her with that it wasn't all bad.

She forced her thoughts back to the matter at hand. "Mom, could I at least meet this guy before I agree to be your maid of honor?"

Donna made a small pouting face. "You're being so serious about this. Can't you be happy for me?"

Felicity let out a long sigh, "I do want to be happy for you, Mom. I really do. I know how lonely you've been. But I don't think asking to meet the man who's about to be my future step-father before he's actually my future step-father is such a kooky request."

Donna let out a sigh of her own and Felicity had a disturbing realization that her mother's exasperated face looked exactly like the one she saw in the mirror. "Fine, fine. He's meeting us for dinner, but I want you to at least agree to go dress shopping with me this afternoon."

"I don't really want to leave Oliver alone, Mom," Felicity said, putting a hand out to rest on Oliver's arm. She wished he would say something – anything, but then she supposed she couldn't expect a man whose chief talent was using bad guys as a pincushions to be great with complicated female drama.

"Oh, I can manage for a few hours," Oliver said, sitting up.

Felicity shot him a withering look. Had she really wished he would say something? She took it back.

Donna let out a squee of delight and bounced to her feet – her sandals were high heeled Felicity realized shaking her head. "I've got the best dress picked out for you – it's perfect."

And inevitably going to get her confused for a call girl, Felicity thought. She pinned Oliver with a look, "Are you sure you don't need me to stick around? I know how lonely it can get in a city you aren't familiar with."

The smile that had been playing at the corner of his mouth slid to a mischievous grin. That grin proved he knew exactly what he was doing. "Oh no, I wouldn't want to get in the way of your time with your mom."

He was so going to pay for this. Giving her ridiculously handsome former vigilante boyfriend one last evil look Felicity allowed her mother to start pulling her away.

"Oh Donna?" Oliver said. His voice was casual, but Felicity sensed something underneath it.

Donna stopped and turned back. "Yes, sweetie?"

Felicity closed her eyes and shook her head. How was it her mom already had a pet name for Oliver? She didn't even have a pet name for Oliver.

Oliver flashed his best playboy smile, all teeth. "I was just wondering what Doug's last name is – you know in case we wanted to get something monogrammed for you."

Her mother cooed, "That's so sweet. No wonder my baby loves you so much. It's Halveston."

"And where did you say he was from? Just curious," Oliver said.

"Houston," Donna replied. "He's in the oil business."

"Great," Oliver said. "You two have fun."

Felicity suddenly realized that Oliver's questions, and his attempt to get rid of her mother might actually have a purpose. As her mother's very manicured nails wrapped around her arm, she looked back at him again, and the small but purposeful nod he gave her made her feel like they were back on a mission.

And maybe they were.

\------------

"You're not wearing that in public," was Oliver's first response as she stormed into the hotel room three hours later with a clear dress bag over her arm. Though calling the item of clothing in it a "dress" was too generous, It was all straps and cut outs and bright purple spandex. And it was a solid four inches shorter than anything else in her closet.

"Well, tell me you've found something horrible about Doug Halveston and I won't have to," she shot back.

He titled his head to one side. "Not yet, I put in a call to Laurel. She's working on it."

"Working on it?" Felicity said. "My mother wants to marry some random stranger the day after tomorrow, Oliver." She strode across the room and pulled her tablet from its case.

Before she could even turn it on though, Oliver was there gently taking it out of her hands. "You don't want to do that," he said.

"Oh, trust me, I do." Felicity said. "If anyone can find dirt on this guy it's me."

"And if you don't find dirt?" Oliver asked raising his eyebrows. "How are you going to feel about spying on your future stepfather…worse yet, how would your Mom feel if she found out?"

Felicity reached past him to make a grab for the tablet, and let out an impatient huff as he tossed it on a nearby couch and wrapped his arms around her. Though she allowed herself to relax into his hold she still shot him a dirty look. "I can't believe you, of all people, are lecturing me about trust and honesty."

He shrugged. "What can I say? You're reforming me."

"Right," she said, rolling her eyes. She leaned her head against his shoulder, "Well, let's go have dinner and meet this jerk."

Oliver chuckled into her hair. "That's the spirit."

\------------

They were only fifteen minutes into dinner when the FBI interrupted, dragging Peter Gardener aka Doug Halveston out of the restaurant in handcuffs. Apparently, a tip-off from the Starling City District Attorney's Office had let them know that the notorious con artist and forger was in Las Vegas.

Felicity sat rubbing her mother's back gently as she sobbed over a rather expensive plate of truffle and cream pasta. "I can't believe it…" Donna said. "He seemed like such a nice man."

"I'm sure he did, Mrs. Smoak," Oliver said gently. Then at a sharp teary eyed gaze from the woman, he quickly amended. "I mean, Donna."

Donna sat up and wiped her eyes. "I wonder how they knew where he was…" she trailed off, and shot Felicity a sharp look. "Did you do something, computer-ish to him?"

"No Mom," Felicity said, but even she could hear the hesitation in her voice.

Donna stood up suddenly. "I can't believe you checked up on him Felicity! Don't you…"

"It wasn't her," Oliver said, cutting her off, his voice calm and steady. "It was me."

All of the anger faded from Donna face and she suddenly sat down and threw her arms around Oliver. In spite of the situation, Felicity couldn't help but smile at the baffled look on his face.

"That was so sweet of you to look out for me," she gushed into Oliver's shoulder. "You're going to make such a good son-in-law."

"Mom!" Felicity said sharply, casting a nervous glance in Oliver's direction.

To her surprise, Oliver was smiling as he awkwardly patted her mother on the shoulder. "Nice to know you approve," he said. Then he looked up at Felicity and gave the tiniest shrug.

"You know," Donna said sitting up, and wiping her eyes. "All of my reservations at the Biggest Little Chapel are still available."

"Over my dead body," Felicity said sharply – she had very specific plans where Oliver Queen was concerned and they did not involve Elvis or purple spandex.


	27. Your Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FF#29: Up Close and Personal - Oliver and Felicity exchange some information about the past

“Your turn,” he says, wrapping his arms around her from behind as she leans against the balcony staring out at the city lights. He loves the way she tilts her head back into his shoulder, loves the weight of it, the soft brush of hair against his neck and jaw. 

She lets out a long sigh, and thinks for a minute, then finally says. “When I was seven I broke my big toe on my left foot, and when I buy new shoes it’s always the first place I get a blister. Your turn.” 

He lets out a small laugh. It was a game they had been playing for the last few days. Felicity had suggested it after a conversation about the secrets of his past had started to edge toward argument territory. “I don’t need to know everything,” she had said gently, her soft voice a contrast to the rising volume of his. “I just need to know you.” 

So, feeling slightly flippant, he told her about his first time getting drunk at the age of twelve; about Tommy, and the treehouse, and the bottle of ancient scotch stolen from his father’s liquor cabinet. But what started out as a ridiculous story turned out to reveal more than he’d expected; how much he missed his best friend, and how little he’d really known his father. 

“Thank you,” she’d said, her voice full of sincerity when he’d finished, wrapping her hand around his forearm just above his wrist. 

“You’re welcome.” Then he’d said the words that had turned it into a game. “Your turn.” 

So she’d told him about counting cards to fund her first terabyte hard drive. “I felt so guilty I went back later and lost on purpose to pay it back though,” she admitted, sounding truly embarrassed. “I guess I’m not much of a bad girl.” 

That had made him smile. 

Some of the “secrets” had been funny, some had been soul wrenching. Her confession about the pain of losing a high school friend to cancer had been told as they drove into the sunset, and in the darkness that followed he’d told her about a little boy named Akio Yamashiro. 

This story about the broken toe and the blisters is the silliest one yet, and he tries to keep the lightness of the moment. “My fifth grade girlfriend called me Ollie-Pop as a pet name.” 

Felicity giggles, and he likes feeling the slight bounce of her stomach muscles against his arm. “Oh, that’s blackmail material,” she tells him.

“Probably,” he says, kissing her temple. 

“What was her name?” she asks.

He honestly has to think about it for a moment. His pre-island memories feel like they belong to a different person and it sometimes takes more work to retrieve them. “Kimberly? Kaylee?” 

“Clearly true love then” she says dryly. 

“It was fifth grade,” he reminds her, feeling the tiniest bit cranky about her teasing. “Your turn.”

“My fifth grade boyfriend dumped me for the first girl in our class to wear a bra,” she says, and her voice holds a note of genuine bitterness. 

“What was his name?” he asks.

“Ryan,” she replies without hesitation.

He leans down to whisper in her ear. “I could put an arrow in him.”

She turns to face him, her arms going around his neck. “You’re retired.” He can tell she means to sound stern, but there’s a smile in her eyes. 

He shrugs. “I could make an exception.” 

She shakes her head, but grins, letting him know that she’s pleased he’d make the suggestion, even teasingly. “Your turn,” she says. 

He drops his forehead to hers, and suddenly wants to stop talking about the past, to talk instead, about her. But there are unspoken rules to this game. So he compromises with a secret about her, “The second time I asked for your help, with Derek Reston? I could have probably run that search myself. I just wanted to talk to you again.” 

She shakes her head and then pushes up on her toes, her lips brushing against his. When she pulls back he whispers. “Your turn.” 

“I love you,” she sighs against his mouth. 

It’s not exactly a secret of her past – but it doesn’t occur to him to complain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was grateful that this fic presented me with a chance to speak to and semi-resolve one of Arrow’s niggling little first-season continuity problems, in that Oliver can design an arrow that virtually drains a bank account, but later can’t do a basic internet search on an individual.


	28. You Can Take the Vigilante Out of Starling...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for FF#30: You Have the Right to Remain Silent - Felicity has to pick Oliver up from the police station.

"You're where?" Felicity says into her cell phone, unable to keep the irritated disbelief out of her voice.

Oliver lets out an irritated sigh. "You heard me. Now are you coming to get me or not?"

"Please explain to me how 'I'm going for a run' turned into 'Bail me out I'm in jail,'" she says, though she is already picking up her keys from the hotel nightstand and heading toward the door.

"It's a long story, can you just…" his voice is stern, the tone he once used to give orders to Team Arrow. However, she didn't always follow orders then and she's not about to follow them now.

"So give me the Cliff Notes version," she says, heading for the hotel elevator.

There's another long sigh, but when he speaks the stony tone of voice has been replaced with a something smaller and less certain. "Some guy on the beach was shoving around his girlfriend, I stepped in and when he got in my face I punched him."

Felicity stops, closes her eyes. "Oh, Oliver, I'm sorry."

"No," he says clearing his throat. "I'm sorry. Felicity I…" there's a loud indistinct voice on the other end of the phone and when Oliver comes back his tone is all business again. "My time's up. You're coming?"

"Of course I'm coming," she says. "I love you."

He starts to answer but the phone disconnects. The town they're in is relatively small and it only takes her fifteen minutes to find the local police station. She's relieved to see him sitting on a bench outside when she arrives, hands on his knees staring at the ground. He looks up as she approaches, but his expression is frustratingly hard to read.

"Jailbreak?" she says, raising an eyebrow.

That gets a hint of a smile out of him, and she feels a sense of relief. Shaking his head he leans back, tipping his head against the brick wall and folding his arms across his chest. "The charges were dropped."

"And the abusive jerkface?' she asks.

Oliver gives a tiny uncomfortable shrug. "I broke his nose. And apparently the girl filed a restraining order against him."

"Good," Felicity says, sliding onto the bench next to him.

"All's well the ends well?" she asks hopefully, but she can tell by his stiffness, by the cloud that hangs around him that it isn't going to be that easy. At least he called her for help.

He closes his eyes. "I told you I was done being The Arrow; that I wanted to be with you."

"You did," Felicity says, putting her hand on his leg.

Tilting his head a fraction his eyes open and he turns a stormy blue gaze on her. "It's only been four weeks and I've already…" he trails off, shakes his head, and stands up abruptly. His breathing is so labored she can see his shoulders rise and fall.

Moving quickly, she goes forward, puts her hand on his back. "Oliver, you've spent the last three years protecting people in trouble. You can't just turn that part of yourself off, and I wouldn't want you to."

He turns reaching for her hand, he stares down at it for a few moments; thumb brushing across her palm. "And if it means, someday, I have to go back to being…"

"A man in a mask?" she suggests, smiling at him. "I fell in love with the man in the mask. The whole 'I can't be The Arrow and love you' crap was your problem, remember? Not mine. Not that I'm anxious to jump back into the crime solving business just yet I…"

He leans forward and kisses her, it's quick, but firm and warm and his hand comes up to grip her waist. "Me either," he says firmly, when he pulls back, dropping his forehead to hers. "Maybe someday I can be both a hero and yours…but for now I still want to focus on the latter."

"Me too," she says. "Now, did they feed you bread and water in the big house, or do you still need breakfast?"

Letting out half of a laugh he pulls her into his arms. "Breakfast is good."

She isn't naïve enough to think this is the last time they'll have to have this kind of conversation, but for right now, his laugh and the promise of waffles is more than enough to give a girl hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know why I keep wanting to write these in present tense – I suck at present tense. However, I'm usually I'm forty minutes into my hour before I realize what I've done and it's too late to redo it, so there are probably verb problems here, sorry gang - the perils of flash fiction.


	29. The Bubble Bursts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ARGUS comes calling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#31 - Nowhere to Hide

It had been the best four months of his life. There was no doubting that – he'd saved his city, his sister, his friends, and even after all the garbage he'd put her through Felicity had been willing to build a new life with him.

They had normal jobs, a favorite coffee shop, Friday date night, and the occasional e-mail from Thea or Laurel to reassure them that while Starling was still Starling, it was nothing they couldn't handle.

Which is why he didn't immediately worry when Felicity didn't show up to the restaurant on time – she was doing contract work for NASA after all. So he ordered her a glass of red wine and waited.

But then she didn't answer her phone, or his three text messages.

He felt his brain shift out of "happiest four months" mode into "something is definitely wrong" mode. He used the tracking app she'd designed to ping her cell, and it came back with her office address. There might be a hundred harmless explanations for why she wasn't answering, but something about it felt wrong. So he threw a twenty on the table and for the first time in four months committed multiple traffic violations to get to a location in under ten minutes.

The security guard in the office complex waved him through – a polite kid named Dave. Oliver knew they guy had a little crush on Felicity, but he didn't mind. You looked out for people you cared about, and one more person looking out for Felicity suited Oliver just fine.

Her office door was open and all the rational explanations flew out of his mind as he pushed his way inside. Nothing looked out of place, her sweater still hung on a peg on the wall and there was a half empty coffee mug on the desk. But there was also her phone next to a note written on some sort of generic federal government stationery:

"Come now, Mr. Queen, you didn't think you could hide forever, did you? Ms. Smoak will be returned to you by Monday – A.W."

No one could burst a bubble like Amanda Waller

Crumbling the note with his fist, he made himself take three deep breaths. Then he pulled out his phone and dialed a number he hadn't used in months. The voice on the other end of the phone was less than thrilled, and definitely not the one he expected.

"What do you want, Oliver?" John Diggle asked, a hard edge in his voice.

Oliver hesitated for a moment, feeling his stomach clench at the tone. "It's about Felicity," he said, knowing the three words would immediately catch the other man's attention. "I was hoping to speak to Lyla."

"What's wrong with, Felicity?" Digg asked, all the anger replaced with concern.

"Amanda Waller snatched her – all I have is note," Oliver explained. "And I thought…

Digg cut him off. "How long has she been gone?"

Oliver touched the coffee cup, it was absolutely cold, but he'd received a text from Felicity at lunch time. "A couple of hours."

Digg swore under his breath. "Lyla's gone too. She supposed to be retired, but I doubt that would stop Waller."

Shaking his head, Oliver pinched the bridge of his nose. "The message says Felicity will be back Monday – should we try to find them?"

"In two days?" Diggle said. "And without Felicity's help? This is ARGUS we're talking about – I don't like our odds."

Oliver shook his head. "You all right?"

There was a long silence on the other end of the phone and Oliver wondered if John would answer him. Then Oliver heard a long sigh, and when Digg spoke he felt like he was hearing his friend for the first time. "I imagine I feel about the same as you do. But, they're both tough, and relatively valuable to Waller, so I think there's cause to hope for the best."

"Yeah," Oliver said, the words lessening his panic a fraction. There was silence again and Oliver took a risk, "You any closer to forgiving me?"

There was a dry, slightly irritated chuckle from the other end of the phone. "Maybe."

"Maybe is a start," Oliver said, unable to keep from smiling slightly.

"But just that," Digg said evenly. "You've got a long way to go yet."

"Fair enough," Oliver replied. He let his fingers trace the rim of Felicity's mug, his thumb deliberately rubbing across the smudge of dark pink lipstick. "I'll call if I hear anything."

"Same here," Digg said, and then he hung up.

___________________________________________________________________

Oliver wasn't asleep when he heard the door open at 3 am on Monday morning. In seconds he was up moving carefully toward the living room, gun in hand. When he saw who stood there he let out a sign of relief and stuffed the gun into the waistband of his jeans.

The dark purple dress she'd been wearing on Friday was stained and had small tears in several places, and there were smudges of dirt on her face, arms, and legs. As he pulled her into a hug she said, her voice exhausted. "Is it okay to hate someone? Because I hate Amanda Waller."

"Me too," Oliver said, leaning back to kiss her. "Are you okay?"

She nodded tiredly. "Did I mention I'm a hacker and not a commando? Because I don't think ARGUS has gotten that message. If Lyla hadn't of been there I'd be dead right now."

"She's okay?" Oliver asked.

Something in the way he said it made Felicity glance knowingly at him. "You knew she was with me?"

Oliver nodded, and understanding Felicity's reaction gave her the answer she wanted to hear. "When I got Waller's note I called Digg."

"And?" Felicity said raising her eyebrows.

He tilted his head to one side, "It wasn't a total disaster."

For the first time since he'd seen her she smiled. "My boys are talking again…at least something good came out of all of this." Then her face fell.

He brought his hand up to cup her cheek. "What is it?"

She looked down, not meeting his eyes. "Oliver, I know you wanted a different life…but there's something. Well, there's something kind of huge happening in Starling. They don't know exactly what yet, but I think…" Finally she looked up at him and he could see the fear and uncertainty in her expression.

He realized what she was saying and let out a long sigh. "You think they need our help."

Nodding, she swallowed hard. "I know it might be difficult, and I don't know how we're going to resurrect The Arrow without getting you arrested, but maybe Cisco..."

Cutting her off with a kiss, he enjoyed the surprised look on her face when he pulled back, and met her gaze. "Let's go home."


	30. Rules of Engagement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity negotiate their rules for poker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet this week – took me awhile to get my head around this prompt and I'm so tired. Hopefully it's worth reading.

"Fine. Whatever. But only if you promise not to count cards," Oliver said, sending her a suspicious glance.

She grinned and tossed the deck of cards and the cheap package of poker chips onto the table. They were stranded in the middle of Wyoming – and the combination gas, gun and drive-thru liquor store hadn't offered much in the way of entertainment. They'd been promised the Porsche would be fixed in a couple of hours…twenty-four hours ago.

"Yay! So what do we play for?" Felicity asked, sliding into one of the chairs at the tiny motel table. She held up her hand, "And don't say strip poker, that's already cost me one emergency room trip."

Oliver's eyebrows shot up, and he settled in across from her, "How did - you know what, I'm pretty sure I don't want to know."

"Good choice," Felicity said. "So…"

Oliver tilted his head, obviously thinking. "Control over the car stereo, white chips are ten minutes, red chips are twenty minutes, blue chips are an hour."

Felicity considered for a moment and then nodded. "But I have to warn you, even without counting cards I am a pretty deadly poker player."

He cast her a skeptical look as he pulled the cards from the box and began shuffling.

"What?" she asked. "Please tell me you're not one of those sexist jerks who think women can't play serious poker."

Grinning in a way that sent her heart to doing little blackflips he shook his head. "No, that's not it."

"What then?" she asked opening the package of chips.

He put his elbows on the table and leaned toward her, his gray t-shirt pulling distractingly tight across his biceps. "Felicity, to be good at poker you have to be able to bluff."

Mimicking his movements she leaned forward, until their faces were only inches apart now. "You don't think I can bluff?"

He shrugged and his eyes traveled lazily across her face in a way that made her want to forget poker and kiss him. "Other people? Maybe. But not me."

"Really?" she said. Slightly irritated she leaned back in her chair. "And what makes you so sure?"

The grin widened to a full on smile, and Felicity held her breath for just a moment. Those smiles were still rare enough to make the whole world stop for a moment. Tilting his head toward her he said, "Well, we both know that when you're excited or nervous you say slightly …um…inappropriate things."

She let out an irritated huff of breath. "Well…yes, I suppose. But how do you know if I'm excited because I have good cards or nervous because I'm bluffing?"

"I'll know," he said, shrugging confidently.

Rolling her eyes. "I'm such an open book am I?"

He nodded, slowly. "Yep. It's part of why I love you."

The words came out so easily, casual, playful even. She felt her face flush a little at the combination of the words and the open affection and flirtation in his eyes. "Oh, well…I guess we'll see won't we?"

He chuckled, and went back to shuffling the cards. She divided the chips into neat little piles and he set the deck out for her to cut. As he put the deck back together, he said, "And if all else fails I'll take off my shirt – we both know you can't think well if I'm shirtless."

She couldn't help but giggle as she picked up a poker ship and tossed it at his chest. "Deal the cards, show off."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied.

And like anything they did together…they both won.


	31. Night In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#33 – Hide From Evil. This is not my best work; I didn't know what to do with the prompt so it became a weird and silly and almost fourth-wall-breaking ode to geekery and the fandom in general. Hopefully it's at least worth a laugh.

"How about Superman Returns?" Felicity asked using the remote to scroll through some of the options in her movie collection.

Oliver glared, "No."

Felicity sat back and frowned at him. "But you like Superman, you even made us stop in Metropolis on our road trip," she said.

"But those fictionalized versions just screw it up," Oliver said, and then pointed at the image on the screen. "Besides for some reason that guy really bugs me."

"I think he's kind of cute," Felicity muttered.

"Which may be why I hate him," Oliver said through clenched teeth.

Felicity laughed. "Fine, maybe we should start with something easier. So pizza, Indian, or Chinese? Those are your choices."

Oliver looped an arm around her shoulder and frowned in confusion. "You have a sudden problem with burgers?"

"Big Belly doesn't deliver," Felicity said scrolling through more movie options.

"We do have this thing called a car, you know," Oliver said, leaning down to speak low in her ear.

"Driving a car would require going outdoors, and for our purposes tonight, anything beyond this house is considered off limits," Felicity declared.

Oliver grinned and pulled back a little. "You don't think that's a little extreme?" Then he noticed the show on which Felicity's remote had stopped, "No more Doctor Who either, it freaks me out."

"Oh, come on," Felicity said, rolling her eyes. "Jack doesn't look that much like Malcolm Merlyn."

"Whatever," Oliver said with a shake of his head, seriously between that and how much the one lady looked like Mrs. Lance it was just too weird. "So why can't we go outside?"

Felicity turned to him and raised her eyebrows. "Do you remember the last time we tried to go to the movies?"

Oliver sighed. "I doubt we're in for two mob wars in a month." He noticed that Felicity had flipped to something else on her television screen.

Felicity tilted her head to the side. It was the same "you're full of crap" look she'd given him the first day he'd officially met her. "And when we tried to go to dinner last week?"

She had a point. "It would be nice to eat an entire meal together without some form of mask related emergency," he agreed. He pointed at the television, "How about Lord of the Rings?" he asked. "I've never seen it and people are…"

"No," she said flatly.

"No?" he asked, surprised. "If you don't like it, why do you own it?"

"Oh, I love it," she said. "But I'm not watching it with you…one of the characters is an archer and I don't need you ruining this like you did the Avengers."

"I didn't ruin Avengers…I just pointed out that I could totally take that guy in a fair fight," Oliver protested.

"Yes," Felicity said pointedly. "Every time he was on the screen. I'm ordering Chinese, last time we ordered Indian I had to practically burn down the house to get rid of that smell."

"Fine," Oliver agreed. "So we're never going to go outside again?" He asked as she dialed the number.

"Maybe someday, but I want you all to myself for at least a couple of hours. So for now, I deem everything beyond this living room an evil to be avoided," she declared.

He rolled his eyes, but leaned forward to kiss her on the forehead as she ordered enough food for six people. His girl did like her leftovers. Gently he took the remote from her hand, scrolling through to see if he could find something to watch they might agree on. With a small smile he finally stopped on something that for some reason just seemed to fit.

When Felicity hung up she said. "The Mummy? I like The Mummy."

"Me too," he said, he leaned in to kiss her. "I've always had a secret thing for the hot nerd-girl."

Kissing him back and giggling she said, "I don't think that's a secret anymore."


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver's laptop gets a new name

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#34: Lust Muffin and ABSolutely …. I really, really hope Marc Guggenheim was kidding. I know this is heretical for an Arrow fan to say but I don't really get the fascination with abs… and I'd like to think Felicity loves him for more than that. Plus elaborate pet names don't really seem Oliver's speed. Anyway, here's the best I could do with this one.

"You didn't." Oliver said, looking up from where he was working on his newly loaded laptop. He'd never even thought about the fact that computers on a network needed different names until Felicity started messing with them. But this…

"I didn't what?" Felicity said innocently, not looking up from her computer.

"You didn't actually name my laptop that did you?" he asked.

She gave him an evil grin, "I warned you…you didn't like my Whovian stuff, or my Greek mythology theme, so this is what you get."

"I still don't understand why our computers can't just have numbers or color names or something simple," Oliver grumbled.

"Because that's no fun," Felicity wheedled, spinning around in her chair. "And we need a little fun around here. Besides it's not like I named your computer 'Grumpy' which I was completely tempted to do."

"But ABSolutely?" Oliver said pointing to his computer. "It sounds like …I don't know…"

"A stripper name?" Felicity said raising her eyebrows.

Oliver didn't know whether to glare at her or laugh. "Kind of, yeah."

"Well then, you should have stuck with Apollo," Felicity said.

He grunted, and went back to work on his computer. After a few minutes of typing he looked up at her, "So what actually is the theme here? I mean, what did you name John's tablet?"

"Arms of Steel," Felicity said easily not even bothering to look up.

Oliver nodded, that was actually pretty true. Ridiculous yes – but… "And Thea's laptop, dare I ask?"

"She picked her own," Felicity said. "She's Red Hot Mama."

Oliver made a face. "I did not need to know that."

"You asked," Felicity said shrugging.

"And yours?" he asked.

"Lust Muffin," Felicity said dryly. "Thea picked that one as well."

"Excuse me?" Oliver said, in what was pretty close to his "Arrow" voice. "I don't think that's appropriate."

"It's just a silly name," Felicity said. "I was waxing poetic about the blueberry muffins from Angie's Bakery and Thea said 'if you love it that much why don't you marry it' and things just devolved from there."

"I still don't like it," he said, genuinely annoyed. "It's kind of…objectifying. You are so much more than some sort of lust object."

Felicity just stared at him for a moment, then she got up from her chair and walked over and kissed him soundly on the mouth.

"What was that for?" he said thoroughly confused.

"The Green Arrow, an ardent feminist," she said happily. Then she grinned wickedly, "But I'm not changing it…or yours for that matter."

He sighed, "Ok, but next time I get to pick the theme."

"Fine," she said, walking back to her computer. Then she sighed, "We're all going to be baseball teams or something aren't we?"

"Better than stripper names," he grumbled.


	33. Equals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity have a little discussion while being shot at

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This might be one of my favorites. I've wanted to write something with these two having a relationship "discussion" while being shot at – so this prompt was perfect. For FF#35 – A Shot Rang Out

"How can you say I don't treat you like an equal?" Oliver hissed ducking behind a packing crate.

"We're doing this now?" Felicity said, flinching as another bullet ricocheted above them.

Oliver shrugged, and ducked above the crate to send an explosive arrow flying across the room. "You said you were finished."

"Of course I'm finished - their security is like Swiss cheese," she said, patting the spot where her tablet was stored in a protective case. Not a bullet proof case however, she thought, trying to scrunch herself even further behind the protective wall of crates.

Oliver sent her a confused look. She rolled her eyes. "You know – full of holes, like Swiss cheese? Or like your argument about why I shouldn't have come on this mission."

"We could have found another way," he said, grunting as a bullet came a little too close to his head. "And – I might point out that your claim of minimal danger is looking a little flimsy right now."

Both of their earpieces were filled with a raspy feminine voice. "You two are sweet and all, but…"

"Enough, Thea," Oliver said. "Where the hell are you anyway?"

"Two floors down," came John's voice. "Just sit tight."

"See," Oliver said, taking a quick ducking glance around the crates. "We have time."

"Fine," Felicity said. "You seem to have no problem letting your baby sister, your lawyer ex-girlfriend, and your best friend out into the field, but if I suggest it you act like a caveman."

His eyes shrunk to a hard squint behind his mask, and Felicity knew that if she could have seen his eyebrows they'd be pulled into a scowl. "I did not act like a caveman."

"Growling, swearing, threatening to tie me to my chair? Sounds pretty caveman to me." And also a little hot, but she wasn't about to admit it. She'd boosted his ego enough in that department.

"Fine, I'm a caveman," he snapped. Two more shots hit the crates. It sounded like the men we're getting closer. He muttered a curse under his breath. "You have the gun Digg gave you?" he asked.

She nodded nervously, reaching back into her waistband to pull it out. "Why?"

"Just keep it handy," he said. He took a deep breath and before she could even formulate a response, he turned popping above the crates and firing two arrows in quick succession. She watched as a bullet slammed into his shoulder.

"Oliver!" she shouted.

He dropped back down beside her again. "Ow," he said, but his voice was that of someone who'd gotten a paper cut, not a gunshot wound. "At least I got both of them. They won't be getting any closer."

"Oh, well good then," she said, unable to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

"I just don't see any reason for you to take unnecessary risks. You're not a fighter," Oliver said.

Felicity rolled her eyes, "Not a fighter? Who stabbed Slade Wilson in the neck, huh?"

Oliver gave her an irritated look. "Those were extraordinary circumstances – and as you might remember I didn't argue about that plan, in fact that was my plan. It doesn't mean you need to be in harm's way all the time."

"This is exactly what I mean," Felicity said, looking up at the ceiling and letting out a big sigh. "You don't think I can take it, you think I'm some weak –"

"Felicity!" he snapped, reaching out and putting a hand on her face so that she looked at him. His face was only inches from hers. "Do you think I'm less of a person because I can't hack a federal database?"

Seeing where she was going, and suddenly realizing he had a point she let out a sigh and said. "No, but-"

"I'm a fighter. You're a genius. We don't all have to be everything." Oliver said, he leaned forward until his forehead rested on hers. "And if it makes me a caveman to prefer that you're safe, then I'm absolutely fine with being a caveman."

They heard noises that sounded like fighting coming from the room behind them. But Felicity was distracted by the fact that Oliver's mouth was only inches from hers. Leaning forward she kissed him gently, "That was a very good little speech."

He grinned, then said, "And you're right, I don't see you as an equal."

She pulled back from him. "What?"

A voice above them suddenly broke into their conversation. "Because everybody knows you're so much better than him," Diggle said, looking down at them.

Oliver's eyes narrowed and he looked up at his friend. "Did you have to steal my line?"

Diggle shrugged his massive shoulders. "Well, we all know it takes you forever to actually say how you feel, and I didn't want you to bleed to death."

Oliver let out a frustrated hiss, but Felicity laughed. They both climbed to their feet and saw Thea approaching, shaking her head. "Only the two of you could have a cute fight in a room full gun toting bad guys."

"A cute fight?" Oliver said.

Thea nodded decisively. "Disgustingly adorable, but next time can it wait until I don't have to listen?"

"With our life," Felicity said, looking closely at the bullet wound in Oliver's shoulder. "I wouldn't count on it."


	34. A Date?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four is definitely a crowd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF#36 - Blind Date. This one stumped me until I looked up the definition of the word blind and saw "imperceptive, slow, or obtuse" as one of the definitions – and I realized that it didn't have to be the couple in question who was obtuse.

"Finally," Felicity said, as he came back into the room.

"Sorry," he said. "Did it take that long?" He had insisted on showering and changing, he didn't want to have their date – even a semi-lame one of pizza and wine in the lair – while covered in sweat and street grime.

"An hour," she said with a sigh. "But luckily for you I like cold pizza." She picked up the box of pizza and the bottle of wine. "You get the glasses," she said.

He reached into one of the cabinets and pulled out a couple of plastic cups. Looking at them he grimaced – he really knew how to show a girl a good time. "Actually," he said, sinking down beside her on the floor. "What's lucky is that you like me."

She smiled and gave a slow nod, studying him with her eyebrows raised, "Well you are ridiculously hot."

Grinning, he grabbed the bottle of wine working the cork free. "So that's it, you just love me for my body?"

She tilted her head and her eyes raked over him in a way that made him want to forget about wine and pizza. "No – though it would be worth it."

Setting the bottle aside he put one hand on her waist and leaned toward her. "Same to you," he said, his lips brushing against hers. Then, what might have been the most annoying sound in the world reached his ears, the door was being opened.

Oliver pulled back from Felicity shaking his head in frustration. He looked up to see his sister walking into the room. He loved his sister, he did, but right now he wished her happy and safe, and anywhere but standing in this room. "Ooh, pizza!" she said plopping down next to Felicity, "Thank the freaking heavens there's only so many bar snacks you can eat before you want something a little more substantial, you know?"

"Thea," Oliver said, with a sigh. "Felicity and I…"

Ignoring him, his sister flipped open the pizza box and grabbed a slice. "Seriously, the whole vigilante by night, club owner by night thing is so exhausting Ollie, how did you do it?"

"Not well," he said, he sent Felicity an apologetic look. She just gave him a little smile and shrugged. Thea seemed to being doing all right, but he knew that her life was a bit lonely at the moment. Resigned, he reached for his own slice of pizza. "You're actually handling it better than I did."

She smiled, "Thanks, big bro."

The door opened and closed again, and Felicity laughed a little bit as Diggle came down the stairs.

"What?" he said, staring at the three of them. "Pizza party and I wasn't invited?"

Oliver frowned, "I thought you were going home for dinner."

"Change of plans," Digg said shrugging. "Lyla went out with some friends. Took Sarah with her – so I'm on my own."

"Then by all means," Felicity said, with a resigned tone in her voice. She patted the spot next to her, "Have a seat."

Digg sat down and Felicity handed him the box. Oliver watched his friend dig into the cheese and pepperoni and wondered if they should have ordered two pizzas.

Then Digg spotted the wine bottle, "That's a little pricey for pizza night."

Oliver nodded slowly, "Yes, yes it is, but for a date…"

Thea and Diggle both froze. "A date?" Thea said, looking at Felicity in confirmation.

"A date," Felicity said with a little shrug, "But it's no big deal…it's not like a six month anniversary of dating is a real occasion, though in my love life it certainly merits…"

"Anniversary?" Digg interrupted. "You were having pizza and wine for an anniversary?" he said, giving Oliver a hard glare.

Oliver let out a sigh so big it puffed out his cheeks, and he leaned back on his hands. "No, we were going to go to La Merc and the symphony, but then someone tried to blow up Star City Bank and Trust…"

"Right," Digg said, in sudden understanding. "Come on Thea," he said. "We're taking our pizza to go."

"Fine," Thea grumbled, but she leaned forward to give Felicity a quick hug. "Sorry I was blind to the fact you two were …well, whatever."

Felicity laughed, "It's okay."

Oliver watched as Diggle and Thea left the room. Then he finally poured the wine in the two cups and handed one of them to Felicity. "Thanks for putting up with me for six months."

She touched her glass to his. "Likewise."


	35. Wrong Place, Right TIme

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Oliver's turn to be standing on a bomb

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF #37 – Trapped! So my other favorite 'ship in the current television line-up is Castle and Beckett – and this is definitely an idea borrowed from an episode of that show.

"You should go, Felicity," Oliver said, his voice tight. "I'll be fine. Digg and Thea are going to get this figured out."

Felicity shook her head and tried to smile. Someone had placed a bomb in their new headquarters – and how did they find it? When Oliver stepped on the pressure plate, of course. What was it with them and explosive devices? "If you're so sure of that then there's no reason for me to go," she said.

There was a flash of panic in his eyes. "We've only got six minutes." His voice dropped a whispered plea. "Please, Felicity."

"Nope," she said, folding her arms across her chest. For the first fifteen minutes she'd managed to stay behind her monitors, hoping she might be able to find some intel that Thea and Digg could use to track down the bomber. But now she stood at the edge of the safe radius Diggle had chalked out on the floor before leaving. It put Oliver just out of her reach – and even if it didn't, they both knew he shouldn't move too much. "If they call, they might need me to do something."

"Felicity!" His shout held genuine anger; he thought she was being foolish. But she could also see the genuine panic in his eyes. It didn't do anything for her own nerves.

She did her best to draw on all of the strength that the last few years had built into her. "I'm not leaving you," she said, proud of how calm and certain her voice sounded. "If the situation were reversed would you leave me?"

He clenched his teeth together so hard she saw a muscle in his jaw twitch. "This is different."

"How is it different?' she said sharply.

"Because it is!" he shouted. "Because you can move on from this – but if I lost you…if you die because of me…." His voice dropped low again, "Please, Felicity, please just get away from me."

"Typical," she said letting out a huff of air. "You're still pushing me away to protect me."

He shook his head and the look he gave her let her know that he thought she'd gone crazy. Maybe she had, their ongoing battle over this issue was hardly the most important point at the moment. He tried to speak twice and kept stopping, apparently unable to find words. "Fine," he finally said his breath coming out in hard almost choking gasps. "Fine, I am. And you need to let me protect you."

"And you need," she said, feeling tears in her eyes. "To love me enough to let me make my own choices."

He dropped his head to his chest. "I do…I love you...you know I love you." He looked back up and now there were tears in his eyes. The sight hurt her so much she wondered if she'd split apart whether the bomb went off or not.

His voice was absolutely broken when he spoke again. "You told me I was a hero, Felicity. So make the choice that lets me be a hero one last time. Choose to let me save you. If you never do another thing for me, Felicity, do this."

The words dug her way into her heart, and she realized that if these were their last moments and she could give him anything he wanted…

He must have seen her hesitation and went in for the kill shot, using her own words against her. "If the situation were reversed what would you want me to do?"

She let out a sob. How could she do this? How could she leave him behind to die alone?

"Take care of Thea. Take care of John." Oliver said, his words gentle now. "Remember that I've never been happier…"

A voice broke over the speakers on Felicity's computers – Diggle's voice. "We've got it! We've got it! Check the timer – has it stopped?"

Felicity's eyes flashed to her monitor where they'd rigged a cell phone camera to give them a picture of the bomb under the floorboard. The timer had indeed stopped. She rushed to grab her headset, "Yes, it's stopped. Are you sure it's safe?"

"As sure as I can be," John said, his voice still laced with worry.

Felicity's eyes flipped back to Oliver's face.

"Meet you upstairs?" he said hopefully, taking a deep breath.

"Not a chance in hell," she said slowly.

He gave her a smile that was full of both exasperation and adoration and closed his eyes tight. She held her breath as he lifted his foot and stepped off of the pressure plate.

There was two wonderfully normal thumps, as first one booted foot and then another landed safely, and quietly, on the floor.

"He's off!" she exclaimed into her headset, running toward Oliver. He caught her in his arms and she held on to him so tightly she figured his body armor was going to have her fingerprints carved into it. She could feel him shaking under her hands and she pulled back. "Are you okay?"

Pulling back he put his hands on either side of his face. "Yeah, yeah – just no more bombs or landmines, okay?"

Felicity titled her head. "I don't know…the first one wasn't that bad."

Letting out a relieved laugh he kissed her soundly on the mouth. "You are more than a little crazy aren't you?"

"And you love it," she said.

His thumbs traced back and forth over her cheekbones. "I do…I really do."


	36. Directions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FF#38 - A little evening meet up between our favorite couple and some normal folks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My very own handsome bff and I are soon to be headed on our own road trip (thankfully not in a Porsche, how would you pack anything in that?) and it just made me think about some normal couple running into Olicity in their travels…I'm really tired so it's a little random, but here it goes.

The campfire on the beach was crackling happily, as Lindsey finished her second s'more and leaned back on the blanket, head against her husband Jack's shoulder. She could hear a party going on further down the beach - one that apparently involved large amounts of Rhianna, beer, and happy shouting – but they were far enough away that she could focus on the sound of the waves. That was the best thing about this part of the world, there was plenty of beach to go around.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the couple walking down the beach in their direction. When she'd first spotted them in the failing light, uber-fit and blonde, she'd pegged them for members of the Rhianna party bunch, but they'd kept walking. Now that they were closer she could see that the man, at least, was older than she'd originally thought, probably pushing thirty.

"They look safe enough, let's just ask them," she heard the young woman say as they approached. The man grumbled a response that Lindsey couldn't here.

"You know, Oliver," the woman said, reaching over to pat the man's stomach. "For such a big muscly guy you're a real baby about asking for directions."

"Sounds like you," Lindsey said to Jack. Jack grunted but she felt the little chuckle he gave.

The woman of the couple obviously won out, because they walked toward Lindsey and Jack. The woman's smiled, and she had an instantly likeable face with bright lipstick and dark glasses. Something about the guy seemed familiar, but she couldn't place it. And, yes, she was extremely happily married, but she felt like she should have remembered a man that looked like that.

"Hi," the woman said. "We're sorry to interrupt what is clearly your peaceful romantic evening, but we're a little lost. Apparently even the most advanced GPS in the world can't help you if the address is sufficiently vague. Which, in this day and age, is actually kind of…"

The man cut her off gently, shaking his head with a little smile. "We were looking for the Bright Bay Inn."

Lindsey usually hated it when men interrupted women, but in this case, it made a certain amount of sense. Jack looked down at her waiting for her to reply – they were apparently two couples of chatty women and quieter men. "Bright Bay's is about twenty miles north back on the highway," Lindsey said, confused at how they could get so lost. "Which way did you come from?"

The man rolled his eyes and shook his head. "North."

Lindsey chuckled and then an idea occurred to her. "Did you take the Hansen Lake turnoff?"

"Yep," the man answered.

"That's where you went wrong," Lindsey said. "You needed to wait for the Hansen's Creek turnoff. Hansen's Lake Road just pulls you off the highway and dumps you here. The sad part is you probably were only about six miles from Bright Bay."

The woman leaned her head back and squinted one eye at her boyfriend. Boyfriend? Husband? They didn't have rings, but they seemed very, very, together.

"Sorry about that," she told him. "Epic navigation fail on my part."

He shrugged. "No big deal."

"Well, at least it's pretty," the woman said. "Not like the time you got us lost in New Jersey. I couldn't believe that neighborhood we ended up in… I thought the Glades were bad."

Lindsey listened to the exchange with a smile. They actually, except for the movie star looks of course, reminded her of her and Jack when they were first together. On impulse she said, "Want a marshmallow before you head back out into the night?"

She hadn't actually expected to be taken up on her offer but the woman's smile brightened. "Could I really? I haven't had a toasted marshmallow in...well I don't know how long, unless you count the ones I cooked in college over the Bunsen burners in the chem lab. And I'm starving."

"Have a seat," Lindsey said, handing her the bag and a roasting stick. "You?" she said, raising an eyebrow at the man.

He let out a big sigh, as if giving in to some great temptation and then said. "Sure, why not?"

Six marshmallows later the couple, armed with clear directions from Lindsey and a map sketched by Jack headed back up the beach into the night.

"Nice couple," Lindsey said, turning toward her husband.

"You were pretty calm, considering," Jack said, raising his eyebrows.

"Considering what?" Lindsey asked confused.

Jack laughed then, loud enough that it rolled into the air around them. "You have no idea who that was do you?"

Lindsey's brain searched back over the experience. Trying to remember details – Felicity, had been the girl's name, they'd been from Starling City, and what had she called the guy?

"Holy crap!" she exclaimed finally figuring it out. "Was that…?"

Jack nodded. "Pretty sure you just met Oliver Queen. Didn't you threaten to leave me for him on our first Valentine's Day?"

Lindsey felt lightheaded and let out a silly giggle, hitting her husband in the arm. "He looks really different now. And lucky you – he definitely seems off the market."

Jack kissed her on the forehead. "Yep, lucky me."


	37. Crashed on the Couch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF #39 – Crashed. So I'm very, very behind on my flash fics and I struggled with this one. It's sort of an early season three "might have happened" kind of thing – and it's short. But hey, it's mushy, so how bad can that be?

"Oliver," his sister's hissed whisper crowded into his sleepy brain. "Oliver."

He blinked against the light pouring through the loft's huge windows – his head ached and his brain felt unbearably sluggish. In other circumstances he'd say it felt like a hangover. Trying to piece together what was happening he looked up to where his sister stood above him. She didn't look panicked, just annoyed. "Speedy?"

"Good morning, sunshine. You and your little friend here are on my bag," she said, her voice hard and loud in his ears.

"What?" he said totally confused. Looking down he realized that there was a woman in his lap. Well, not quite in his lap, but certainly crashed out on top of him.

The night's events started to come back to him, but it was still frustratingly foggy. Dimly he remembered them breaking into a building and getting hit with some sort of gas. "Felicity," he said, as much to himself as to Thea. "It's Felicity."

"The secretary?" Thea said. She tilted her head, "Didn't know you guys were a thing - well, considering you're still clothed and on the couch, maybe you're not quite a thing."

Oliver looked down. He was fully dressed in the street clothes he'd been wearing last night before he'd hooded up, and there was a stiff ache in his ribs and right knee that let him know it had been a tough evening. Still remembering the gas, he brushed Felicity's hair away from her face. He let out a sigh of relief to find that she was, at least, breathing steadily. He gently tucked the hair behind her ear. Putting a hand on her cheek, he tried again to get his thoughts about the night before to make some sense. How had they…?

"So maybe there is a thing then," Thea's voice cut into his thoughts.

"What?" he asked impatiently, turning toward her.

His sister gave him a little smirk. "You're awfully touchy-feely."

Oliver cleared his throat. "Look, um, I'm not sure what…"

Waving a hand Thea said. "I don't need all the gory details. But I do need my bag, and you're sitting on it."

Shaking his head Oliver reached beneath him and sure enough, retrieved a fairly squashed high end leather bag.

"Thanks big bro," Thea said with a grimace, as she gingerly took the purse from him. "I've gotta run. I'd say 'have fun' but apparently the two of you already covered that."

Distantly Oliver was aware of Thea opening and closing the front door. Reaching down, almost without thinking, he slipped his arms around Felicity pulling her from the awkward angle she was slumped against him to being properly settled in his lap. She let out a single incomprehensible murmur, before tucking her head into his neck. Unable to resist, he turned placing a kiss on her forehead. Exhausted he let his head fall back onto the couch; he really needed to make sure Felicity was okay…he needed to figure out what had happened…he needed to…

The thoughts were swamped out by his gas addled brain, and all he could process as he fell back to sleep was how good Felicity's hair smelled and how soft the skin of her knee was under his hand.


	38. Christmas in July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF #40 Christmas Eve. Full disclosure – I had extra time to think about the prompt (that's what happens when you fall behind) and it got away from me and took more than an hour to finish…yeah, I'm a big cheater, but I still hope you like your belated Christmas in July present.

There was no way she could ever come close to giving him back everything he'd lost, she knew that. She realized that she loved a man whose shadow, even at the brightest moments, held a little more weight; a little more darkness. He was probably always going to watch his back, always going to have an emergency bag of cash and weapons stashed away, was always going to reach anxiously for her when there was a noise that was too loud or a movement that was too sudden.

But dammit, even a Jewish girl could give the man a Christmas.

The idea had started when they'd seen seashell Christmas ornaments in one of the gift shops they'd wandered through in Oregon. Felicity had joked about Hanukah bushes and wondered aloud how they'd celebrate the holidays when she saw the smile fall from his face.

"What?" she asked anxiously. "I was kidding, I like my menorah but I'm all in for presents and eggnog."

He cleared his throat. "I haven't had the greatest luck with Christmas."

And right there, amongst the lighthouse picture frames and salt water taffy Felicity felt her own smile disappear. He'd been missing last Christmas…and the one before that there had been mirakuru men and ghosts…and the one before that had been the Dark Archer and hostages…and the five before that…

Putting a hand on his arm, she said. "I'm sorry, Oliver."

He blinked quickly and forced a smile. "It's okay. We're moving forward now, right?"

"Right," she said, and let him change the subject to which color of t-shirt he should buy. But she'd quietly bought the little ornament and began to hatch a plan. A plan she wasn't willing to wait until to December to complete.

The various pieces took her some time to compile. She'd slipped away one day and found three boxes of twinkle lights in the patio décor section of hardware store; paper and ribbons and fake poinsettia from a craft store. She downloaded a Christmas playlist; printed out images of Santa Claus; bought a red sweater on the clearance rack of a sporting goods store. She'd Googled recipes for homemade egg nog, and then with a frown, decided that peppermint hot chocolate would have to do. And with a lump in her throat, she sent an e-mail to Thea, asking her friend to send her something she'd stashed away, in agony, seven months earlier.

After several weeks of planning, she decided they were in the perfect place to stage her surprise. The cabin they had rented was in an old fashioned lodge style building with dark wooden beams, surrounded by a deep evergreen forest. Oliver had decided he wanted to stay for a while, so one afternoon she came back to the cabin, the a car stuffed with bags full of turkey ham, mashed potatoes, pie, and cranberry jelly, which she'd been stunned to discover the local grocery store actually carried year round.

Leaving the bags outside on the porch she walked into the cabin. "You need to go for a run or a drive, or something," she'd told him.

"I do?" he asked confused.

She nodded. "I'd like to come up with some other clever excuse to get rid of you, but we both suck at that so, yes, I have a surprise for you, and for it to work I need to be gone for at least two hours."

He'd laughed, actually laughed, and it said something about the good place he was in that he'd just shook his head, kissed her, and headed out the door.

For two hours she worked on the front room of the cabin, and by the time she heard the car pull back in the driveway, she looked around and was content that the living room looked as much like a holiday wonderland as she could manage in the middle of July.

She moved to stand in front of the door, watching him closely as he pushed it open. For two seconds he looked thoroughly confused, then his expression softened and she saw him swallow hard. "Felicity..what…"

She gave a little shrug, her voice thick with emotion. "Merry Christmas, Oliver."

Shaking his head he came toward her, pulling her into his arms. "It's eighty-five degrees outside," he said, but his voice was rough, and she could tell the statement was an attempt to get his emotions in check.

Looking up at him she wrapped her arms around his neck. "You've never heard of Christmas in July?" she joked. Then putting a hand on his face she said, "Everyone deserves good holiday memories, Oliver, and I thought it was time to make sure you had some."

He swallowed hard again, and dropped his forehead to hers. "I do have some good holiday memories actually."

"You do?" she said. "But in that store you said…"

"I know, Christmas has been rough," he agreed. "But I also remember it being the first time I told a certain blonde IT girl she was remarkable, and the first time that same girl told me I looked like a hero."

She laughed softly, feeling moisture in her eyes. Pulling back she looked around her. "Then I didn't need to do all of this?"

He grabbed her hand and pulled her toward where she'd set up a small potted tree covered with lights and ribbons and one seashell Christmas ornament. "I wouldn't say that," he said, reaching his long fingers out to gently touch one of the branches. "I really like the idea of spending Christmas with you…and with our luck we should take our chances where we can."

"I agree," she said. "So what do you want first dinner, hot chocolate, or presents?"

He made a face and tilted his head to one side. "I don't have anything for you," he said.

"Actually," she said, once again having to swallow back tears. "You do."

He frowned, and she pointed to a package that was tucked under the small tree. It was small, clumsily wrapped in newspaper with a flattened red bow and on the outside in black marker in Oliver's handwriting were the words, "To Felicity, From Oliver."

She felt him freeze. "How did you…"

"Thea," she whispered. "She found them in your room after we thought…" She couldn't bring herself to say the words.

"After I didn't come back from fighting Ra's al Ghul," he finished for her, the words heavy against the backdrop of twinkle lights and Jingle Bell Rock. "But I meant how do you have it here?"

Felicity nodded. "I had Thea send it to me," she explained. "I couldn't ever bring myself to open it, and it's been in my underwear drawer ever since."

The last words made him smirk just a little bit, and she fought the urge to blush. "I wondered if you'd ever opened it" he said. "Thea told me she'd given it to you."

Felicity shrugged and now she did have to reach up and wipe away tears. "I wanted to open it with you," she said firmly.

He let out an uneven little chuckle. "It's probably going to be a serious disappointment after all that build up."

"Shall we see?" she asked, swallowing hard and forcing her voice to be more playful. Reaching down she picked up the two packages she'd gotten for him. They weren't very exciting. Still as he opened them, he looked surprisingly touched.

"This, I love," he said, staring at the framed picture of them on a mountaintop whose name she could never quite pronounce or remember.

"Good," she said, leaning forward to give him a long, leisurely kiss.

He tucked his fingers into her hair and whispered against her mouth. "Your turn."

Taking a deep breath Felicity pulled back and ran a fingernail under the edge of the taped newspaper. Inside was a flat jewelers box, and she flipped the lid open to find a delicate gold chain bracelet with three red stones, and a folded up scrap of paper. Opening the paper she whispered the message out loud. "Red pen, red dress, red bracelet – Love, Oliver."

She stared up at him, surprised at the thoughtfulness of it, especially given where they had been all those months ago. "This is perfect."

Letting out a huge breath of relief he said, "They're just garnets, not anything fancy, but I…"

She cut off his words with another kiss, and felt a surge of joy as he wrapped his arms around her. Lowering his mouth to her ear he said, "Merry Christmas, Felicity."

Burying her head into his shoulder, she replied. "Merry Christmas, Oliver."


	39. One Question

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For FF#42 "One Question" - Felicity's the one asking the question that no one else has

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn't get anywhere with the amnesia prompt (#41) – everything I wrote sucked. So I skipped it, and here we are for FF #42 – One Question. I've wanted to do something like this since the last season ended, and this prompt and the new trailer helped me figure out exactly where to go. Hopefully it works.

Finally, for the first time since they'd been home, they really had a moment to themselves. And of course, being them it was in a dark, dreary windowless room. A room for which she had visions, and plans, but there was one thing that had to be resolved first.

Oliver was taking the spot in; she could see his brain working, probably evaluating the security and tactical usefulness of this location. "This could work," he said.

"Yeah," she said, letting out a long breath. "But there's something we need to clear up before we move forward."

He turned a frown on his face. "I know there will be ownership…"

"No," she said, striding purposefully toward him. "Before that."

He looked irritated. "What? What else could there be?" he said, his tone sliding into aggravated disbelief.

She knew that aggravation wasn't really directed at her – it had been a tough few days, and people had been throwing opinions and emotions and all sorts of things at this man, and yet in her mind no one had asked the one question that needed asking. Walking toward him she put her hand on his arm, "I need you do something for me."

The irritated look softened, and one corner of his mouth quirked up. "What?"

"For one minute I want you to forget about what everyone else thinks, forget Laurel, forget Digg, forget Lance, and I even want you to forget about me and Thea."

He opened his mouth to protest, but she put her fingers over his lips. "Just for five minutes – just clear all of our opinions and all of our crap out of your heart and answer one question for me, okay?"

Nodding he pressed his lips against her fingers, and in spite of the seriousness of their situation she had to smile a little. "Okay," he murmured against her touch.

She bracketed his face with her hands. "Do you - Oliver, want to do this? Do you want to strap on a quiver and a mask and help save Starling…Star City? Is that what you want?"

His gaze locked with hers and she saw the struggle there, knew that in spite of what she'd asked he would think about everyone else. But at least someone, she thought, had given him permission to put his own desires in the equation. Taking a deep breath he nodded once. "Yes." Then she saw a flash of pain in his eyes. .

"What is it?" she asked, sliding a hand down to rest it against his heart.

He looked down at her hand, brought his own up to squeeze it tight, pressing their joined hands into his chest. "It's just…I can't…"

"Talk to me," she said gently, stepping forward so that their eyes met again. What she saw there surprised her – he looked genuinely afraid.

"I can't do it without you," he said, his voice just above a whisper.

Her gut literally ached but she forced herself to smile. "Let's be honest, Oliver, you never could."

Letting out a rough, choked chuckle, he said. "You're right. I also don't think I could live without this," he said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers. "And I don't know how that's going to work."

She shrugged. "We will just have to figure it out."

"Yeah?" he said. The uncertainty in his tone made her heart ache for him – and to be honest, made her worry, truly worry for the first time since they'd come home.

She'd just have to be confident enough for the two of them. "Absolutely – we can make this work, but only if it's what you want."

He lifted his head up and swallowed hard, the uncertain look replaced with determination. "It is."

"Well then," she said, unable to suppress the huge smile that spread across her face. "I have something to show you."

She led him forward until he could see the display case that was still wrapped in a sheet. Moving forward she pulled the cover off, revealing the new suit she'd worked on, secretly, with help from Cisco for the last five months.

Stepping back so he could fully take it in she said, "Oliver Queen, meet the Green Arrow."


	40. Never Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oliver and Felicity deal with some of the painful after effects of their difficult year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF #44 – Touch Me. Beware, long author note ahead.
> 
> I love sassy, kick butt Felicity Smoak. I really, really do. But I also think that the show doesn't do a very good job of letting the character emotionally reflect or react to the pain and trauma she goes through. Now lots of shows have this problem, but well, this is the one I write fanfiction for. And as I wrote this piece I was surprised at where it went. It totally got away from me, apparently I needed to write a very human, very vulnerable version of Felicity – I don't think that negates her strength, but I know not everyone will agree with that. Also, there's a pet name in here, and Oliver gives a big speech, which I'm not even sure about myself, but it is what it is, the perils of flash fiction and all that. In any case, thanks for putting up with me.

It took him a while to notice, to realize something was going on. She'd probably been doing it since the minute he'd come back from Nanda Parbat. In all fairness, Felicity touched him a lot, in affection, in passion, to brush the powdered sugar off his shirt, and so he supposed he could be forgiven for not noticing right away.

The first time he'd been aware of this particular touch was in a convenience store. He'd gone to grab a water from the cooler in the back while Felicity had been deciding what kind of chocolate she wanted. He couldn't have been out of her sight for more than two minutes, but when he came back to her she reached out and grabbed his forearm, her grip tight. He caught a momentary flash of panic in her eyes.

"You okay?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Yeah, why?"

He looked down. Her eyes followed his and she let go of him, looking flustered. "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," he said, reaching for her hand. "Are you…"

Smiling brightly she said, "So… if I get the king sized bar will you share with me?"

"Sure," he said. Looking back her evasion should have told him something more was going on, but it had seemed harmless.

The next time, he'd gone to get breakfast while she was still asleep and when he came back she'd kept her hand fisted in his shirt for a good ten minutes. A week later he'd had to move the car to another gas pump while she went inside the station, and when she found him she wrapped a hand around his wrist and didn't let go until he'd asked her to.

That's when the pattern began to emerge for him. If he told her where he was going, what he was doing, when he'd be back, she was fine. But any moment – even a minute or two, where she didn't know where he was resulted in one of those desperate touches. And it wasn't just the touch either; he saw the flashes of fear in her eyes. Quickly covered by a smile or a silly comment, but always there.

He knew they'd been through a lot – that he'd put her through a lot, so he hoped it would wear off, and he thought it was getting better.

Then one morning he left for his run without kissing her goodbye. She'd been on the phone with her mom and hadn't wanted to interrupt. Since he went out at the same time every day, it didn't even occur to him that it would worry her.

So when she came flying at him the moment he came through the door, he was surprised. Her hold was almost rib crushing, and when she finally let go enough for him to see her face she was pale, her eyes clouded with worry.

"Felicity, what's wrong?" he said. She started to pull away but this time he held tight. "You look scared."

Staring at his chest and not his face, her voice was quiet when she said. "I just, well, I wasn't sure where you were."

He rubbed a hand up and down her back. "I went running. You had to have guessed that."

Still looking away he saw her lower lip tremble and he swallowed hard, stunned by the force of her emotions. Her voice was nervous and agonized as she said, "Your running shoes are still in the closet, I…"

"Oh, honey," he said putting his hand in her hair and pulling her head into his shoulder. "I stopped and bought new ones on the way home yesterday."

Her reaction to that was to start sobbing into his sweatshirt. Not a tiny sniffle, or a few tears, but shoulder shaking sobs, that cut right through the heart of him. Feeling completely at a loss he just held her for what felt like an eternity, then unable to stand it he said, "Talk to me, Felicity."

She took in a shaking breath. "I don't want to," she said, there was an edge of little kid stubbornness in her voice, and in spite of the situation he couldn't help but smile.

"That might be a first," he said. She didn't react to his attempt to lighten the mood, and that worried him more than anything. He tilted his head to try and meet her eyes. When she finally looked at him, there was fear and anger and pain in her face. "I thought…well, I didn't really think…but part of me worried you were gone."

He pulled back, stunned. "Why would you think that?" his voice came out harder and angrier than he'd intended.

Hunching her shoulders she tried to step away from him. "It's stupid…just forget it."

Making himself take a couple of deep breaths he tried to figure out what the right thing to say was. Being very careful to make sure his voice was gentle he said, "I'm not going anywhere."

She stared at the floor, and there were few moments of silence. Then, as if the words were physically painful to say, she spoke, "You've said that before – you said I wasn't going to lose you, and I have, twice."

He swallowed hard, she'd never once thrown anything in his face. In fact, he knew she'd only said it now because he'd forced it out of her. "No you didn't."

"Oliver…" she said, her voice weary, frustrated. "I thought you died…I thought you'd been brainwashed…you don't know what that was like."

Bringing his hands up, he brushed his thumbs against her cheekbones. "I know that had to hurt you Felicity, but even then, you never lost me." Skepticism was written all over her face.

Willing her to believe him he continued. "I was always yours. My last thought before Ra's pushed me off that cliff was of you…and the only reason I wasn't brainwashed was because I thought about you. And as stupid as I was, everything I did, everything, was at least partly to protect you. Felicity…"

His voice choked off, realizing that for all that she'd said there was still doubt in her eyes. He stepped back and folded his arms across his chest. There was something he'd never confessed, something that might hurt more than it helped, but in this moment he had to tell her.

Swallowing hard, fighting to keep his voice even he said, "You know why I took Lyla? You know why I left John's baby alone? Because Ra's presented me with two choices to prove my loyalty, betray Diggle, or betray you."

Her head jerked back a little and her blue eyes went wide behind her glasses. Frowning she said, "That does actually make me feel better. Am I a really horrible person?"

He let out a strangled chuckle. "The point is, no matter what, I've been yours, in one way or another, from the minute I saw you." Which was a lot longer than she knew, he thought, but that was a confession for another day.

"Yeah?" she said stepping toward him.

"Yes," he said, reaching for her.

She collapsed into his hold. "Can you, you know, still tell me when you're going? Because I know it's neurotic and everything, but I think I'm still going to be scared."

"I understand," he whispered into her hair. "Sometimes this seems too good to be true."

He was very careful over the next few weeks to talk to her, every time, before he left – until one day, with a glint of happiness and mischief in her eyes she said. "Just go already. I know you'll come home."

It was one of the best things he'd ever heard.


	41. "Green" Arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of people weigh in on Oliver's jealous tendencies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For FF #45 Jet Lag. For some reason half the cast of Arrow, The Flash, and Legends of Tomorrow decided to take up residence in my head tonight (there's even a Vixen reference here, I'm such a nerd). So this is a seven way conversation about the fact that Oliver's suit isn't the only thing that's green about him. Oh, and it has almost nothing to do with Jet Lag, except that Felicity wants to get home quickly.

"Why are you being so stubborn about this?" Felicity said, wondering what on earth was wrong with her boyfriend. They'd caught the bad guy, Ray Palmer and Sara Lance were both surprisingly alive, and they'd even helped jump start a couple new superheroes, there was no reason for broody Oliver to have suddenly reappeared.

"It's not fair to Laurel and Thea," Oliver said. "They had to take the bikes back and I don't want to get there ahead of them."

It may have been the stupidest excuse Oliver had ever given her, and that was saying something given the infamous "ran out of sports bottles" line. The fact that the five other people in the room were now giving him odd looks told her that she wasn't the only one who thought so.

"I'm sure they wouldn't mind," Caitlin said. "Your sister seems to have a definite affinity for motorcycles. In fact, you might consider letting Cisco fit one out specifically for her."

Oliver clenched his teeth and shook his head slightly. "That's uh… look, can we just get to the airport? I don't want to impose on Barry," Oliver said, trying to sound reasonable. "He's got a city to protect and I don't think we should expect him to be a taxi service." He tried to smile at her but it was his old smile, the one that looked like he was afraid his face might crack.

"I don't mind," Barry said, moving toward his Flash suit. "Really, it's the least I can do after all you guys have done here."

"Yeah," Cisco said, weighing in. "I mean I think with the number of people we have at Star Labs right now we could protect half of the world. If there was ever a time that Barry could make a quick run it's…"

"No," Oliver said, his voice hard as steel. And once again everyone stared at him.

Felicity rolled her eyes. "Is this about you not wanting to have to hang on to Barry? Because I'd think that to save your beloved girlfriend some jet lag you'd get over that."

"Oh, I don't think that's the problem," cut in the voice of their newly resurrected friend. Sara Lance walked over toward them, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "I think it's more about you holding on to Barry."

Felicity rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Are you serious?"

"Yep, she's serious," chimed in Ray Palmer who had been over in the corner pretending not hear their conversation. He flipped his helmet over in his hand, "I think it's probably more along the lines of why Oliver didn't want you helping me test the weight capacity of the suit."

"You're kidding," Felicity said turning back to Oliver. "This is about the fact that I'd have to hang on to Barry? Why is that such a problem? It's not like I haven't done it before."

Oliver gave her a glare worthy of his arrow slinging alter ego. "Do we have to talk about this here?"

"Is this because you know I kissed her?" Barry asked. He looked a little startled, like he hadn't meant to say it out loud.

Oliver turned on him with such a dark look that Barry stepped back and would have stumbled if Caitlin hadn't reached out to steady him.

"Why would you tell him that?" Felicity asked Barry.

"It slipped out," Barry said, holding up his hands. "Apparently I was in babbling mood that night."

Felicity shook her head. "So yes, I kissed Barry like a hundred years ago. But we weren't together then."

"Oh please," Sara piped up. "You guys have always been 'together,' even when I was sleeping with him I ended up feeling like a third wheel."

Ray gave Sara a sympathetic look. "Hey, you too? We should start a club."

Cisco squirmed a little. "Well, this has officially gotten awkward."

"Enough!" Oliver roared. Then he reached out and took Felicity's hand. "Can we please, please, just take the plane home?"

Those ridiculously perfect eyes of his were in full puppy dog pleading mode. He could probably convince her to assassinate someone with that look.

"Fine," she said with a sigh, unable to keep from smiling at him. "I suppose I can make do with a private jet trip…this time."

Oliver rolled his eyes, and looked back at their friends. "Goodbye, everyone. I'd say I hoped to see you soon but…" he tilted his head, "that would be lying."

"Oliver!" Felicity exclaimed. She turned to their friends. "He doesn't mean it. We love you guys. Well, not love, love…I mean like platonically."

Oliver cleared his throat, the glare back in place. Felicity shook her head, "Not that kind of platonically! Actual platonic-ness, as in…" she made herself stop, wrapped her arm around his and said. "Goodbye guys."

As they walked out she heard Caitlin say, "I'm not sure if that was weird or entertaining."

"They don't have to be mutually exclusive," Sara replied.

Felicity wrapped her hand tighter around Oliver's arm and as they stepped out of Star Labs, she said. "Don't tell any of them, but I admit, I'm glad we're going home."

"And I'm glad we're doing it together," he said, still with a slight grumpiness in his voice.

Felicity laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "You're cute when you're jealous."


End file.
